


Malignancy

by physiologyfan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Freckles, Gay Jean, Hospital Setting, Jean has cancer, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Marco is a big dork, POV Jean Kirstein, POV Marco Bott, Suicide Attempt, Why is Marco so cute, sad past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 88,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/physiologyfan/pseuds/physiologyfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And then I realize…The feelings I'm having are just as malignant as the sickness coursing through Jean's vessels. They're spreading rapidly, faster than I can keep track of, and it's a dangerous game for the both of us."</p><p>In an alternate universe, Jean Kirstein is a cancer patient at St. Rose's Teaching Hospital. His sad past, his hidden sexuality, his inability to attend his senior year of high school, and the countdown to the end of his life have got him more than a little down. But while he's busy sulking at a hospital picnic, he makes a new friend. His name is Marco Bodt, and he quickly has Jean completely infatuated. Jean finds himself wondering if he should finally embrace himself for who he is, or if he should keep quiet. After all, he doesn't even know if Marco is gay. And even if he was, who wants to go out with someone who may not be around much longer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robot Boy

JEAN’S POV

When I wake up, it’s a slow and agonizing process. Opening my eyes to the bright light coming from the window to my right proves difficult, and the ever-present pain throughout my entire body begs me to slip back into unconsciousness. My joints refuse to work with me as I lazily try to tug my white, crisp sheet over my face. If I could, I’d prefer to just go into a coma until all of this is over.

To clear things up, I don’t just have a case of the morning blues. True, I’ve never been much of a morning person, but that’s not the problem these days. I have fucking cancer, acute lymphoblastic leukemia to be exact. I’ve been in this hospital for God knows how long, and I’ve never been so miserable. Finally able to cover my face with the sheet, I huff in annoyance. It’s so thin it doesn’t even help protect my eyelids from the light one bit. 

My life was nothing like this a few months ago. I was Jean Kirstein, the track star of Trost High School. My grades were good and my friends were great. They all put up with my sour attitude with amused smirks and jokes. Groaning slightly, I roll over onto my side to face away from the persistent sun. From this angle, I can see the hallway through the glass panes next to the door. Nurses, doctors, and concerned parents walk by periodically, the cycle interrupted only occasionally by small, bald-headed children.

I’m only in the children’s cancer ward because I’m not quite eighteen yet, and the adult one was pretty full when I was first admitted. I guess it’s for the better, considering my case is one that usually happens in children under the age of ten. Every time I think of that, I feel strange. Why’d I get a kids’ disease when I’m almost a man? I frown at the sight of a mother pushing the wheelchair of a hairless little girl past my door. The child smiles broadly, mouth moving soundlessly as she turns her head and converses with her loving guardian. I’m not like these children at all.

Anyone who’s been in this wing of the hospital at all in the last month knows my scowl well. So many people try to make me out to be one of those children, someone who just needs a boost. However, that is not the case. These kids that are housed in the rooms mirroring mine all down these hallways _can _be cheered up. They can be distracted from the hell they’re experiencing because they don’t really know what they’re missing. _I do. _____

I think back to relaxed times with my group of friends from high school, a haphazard but tight knit selection of starkly differing students. Weekends would be spent at any one of our houses, kicked back in someone’s living room during fall and winter, and a backyard during the warmer seasons. We’d make fun of each other and tell stories that we’d all heard a million times but still enjoyed. After a long day of school, or work, or training, nothing beat putting up my feet on someone else’s familiar coffee table and throwing back a beer or two that we always managed to get our hands on one way or another.

My best friend was a short boy without a filter named Connie (girly, I know). He always had his hair shaved short, as if all those years he was hinting at my own pitiful future. I run a hand through my own hair, having mixed feelings about it. I’m glad it’s growing back, but it also serves at a reminder that the chemotherapy didn’t work as it should have, and the treatment had to be cut short for my emergency bone marrow transplant.

But back to Connie; he was a boisterous boy who never ceased to amuse me with his random outbursts and undying loyalty. No matter what anyone said about me, even when it was true, he’d defend my “honor” with all his might…I haven’t seen much of him lately. Not that it’s any fault of his own. Senior year just started this week, and I’m unable to attend school in my condition. I grimace when I think about the replies I’ll be receiving from the universities I eagerly applied to in the middle of summer, right before this entire thing started happening. Even if I do get in, there’s not much point anymore. I no longer have a future that I need to prepare myself for. I was originally told I had about five years, which is about average. But after my failed chemo, it quickly dropped down to one to two years. If I somehow was able to attend college like I’d always wanted, I’d never see graduation.

On that sobering thought, I force myself to sit up. The clock on the bedside table says it’s almost eight, which means one of the nurses should be coming soon with breakfast. Despite my resigned attitude, I’m looking forward to some warm food. Ever since having to deal with the nausea of that wretched treatment for so long, I’m thankful to have my appetite back. As if on cue, Francesca walks in with her usual bright a cheery smile, pushing a noisy cart through the doorway.

“Good morning Jean. Guess what!” She says a bit too loudly like always, still donning a pair of pink scrubs. I swear this lady owns at least a hundred unique nursing uniforms, all pink. Whether there are hearts, bunnies, Disney characters, or cartoony stethoscopes littering her v-neck shirt, you can bet the background is pink.

“Morning. What’s up?” I mumble, wincing at the unexpected yet familiar burn in the back of my throat when I speak. I look up at her, all happy and full of sunshine with her blonde hair tied up into a messy bun. Speaking of sunshine, I should ask her to close the shades tonight so it doesn’t wake me up again tomorrow morning.

“I was able to snag you one of those banana muffins I know you like so much. But don’t tell anyone. I had to go to the guest cafeteria to find it.” She says with a chuckle, setting the tray of food on the over-the-bed table and wheeling it in front of me. She removes the plastic, gray cloche in a flurry of overdramatic enthusiasm, revealing the muffin along with two pieces of died up looking sausage, a small bowl of soggy oatmeal, and a generous amount of scrambled up egg substitute. Great…At least I can eat the muffin.

“Thanks.” I mutter, taking a shaky hold of the styrofoam cup of grape juice next to the plate and lifting it to my chapped lips. I glance up at Franny to see her gazing at me sadly. Her look of pity irritates me a lot less that it should. Why should I be angry with others who feel bad for me when I too feel so badly for myself? A small, excited noise escapes her lips as she suddenly cheers up again, a new smile showing even brighter on her face than before.

“Oh! Can you do me a huge favor today?” she asks. Her request peaks my interest and I pause as I’m about to take my first bite of the muffin. I do have to admit, I really like these things.

“What is it?” I reply, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“There’s a picnic this afternoon for the children, and I’d really appreciate it if you would attend.” She says, her voice raising in pitch at the end of her sentence as she tries to maintain my fading attention. I try harder to tune her out. I will absolutely-fucking-not go to this damn picnic. I hate those things, and I hate the fact that I know I’ll be spending it alone.

“Why? So I can sit on a bench alone with a paper plate of macaroni salad for three hours?” I retort rudely. She frowns and eases herself into the chair next to my bed.

“You don’t have to be alone. We could call your-“

“My mom can’t come.” I cut her off. Her frown increases, pity deepening every wrinkle in her brow. I sigh, wondering how my mother is doing. Every since my dad died when I was child, she’s been struggling with severe depression. It was just mom and me after that. We took care of each other, that is until I got cancer. Once I was diagnosed, her depression skyrocketed to degrees I’d never seen before, and she started hurting herself again and starting abusing prescription drugs. I know why she did it…because everyone she loves always gets taken away from her. 

My once sweet mother is now in a rehabilitation center, desperately fighting the staff’s efforts to recover her to some sort normality, even though everyone knows that normality is long gone in both our lives. Dad is dead, I’m dying, and she’s killing herself slowly. Soon, there won’t be any Kirsteins left.

Lucky for me, my grandparents are able to pay for my medical expenses from afar. Sometimes, I wish they didn’t live so far away. It’s stupid and it makes me feel like a kid, but I feel like I need an adult in my life to anchor me and reassure me. And not Francesca or any of the other nurses; I need a family member. 

“Oh yeah. I’m sorry…” She states sadly, probably guilty for momentarily forgetting my family situation. 

“I’m not going.” I huff stubbornly, already far too annoyed for this early in the morning. Her face is disappointed, but slowly turns into a smirk.

“If you go, I’ll get you a whole basket of those muffins.” She says slyly. I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if she really believes something like that would work on me. I hem and haw internally on the idea, even though I’ve already resolved to reject her offer. I do really like those muffins though, and they are one of the few things they serve here that are edible. But I would rather die than go to that picnic. Although I actually am dying so I guess that point is invalid.

“A whole dozen of them.” She taunts in a sing-song voice. I raise an eyebrow, considering the consequences of what I’m about to say.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Those muffins better be fucking fantastic.” I mutter to myself as I stand alone in the elevator with my walker. That’s right, a _walker _. I feel like I’m seventy-five years old with this thing, but they require me to use it because of the weakness in my legs. I tap my fingers on the smooth, silver metal. I’ll probably just ditch it sometime during the picnic. Fumbling with the IV bag that they somehow attached to the one handle, I remove it and get it to hang neatly from my right hip through my belt loop.__

I look so stupid, but it’s better than using the walker in my book. At least I’m wearing normal clothes for the first time in a while. I’ve donned a pair of tight jeans, a plain, royal blue t-shirt, and the old pair of Adidas Sambas I always could be seen wearing when I was still in school. Can’t help but love a classic pair of shoes.

When the elevator door opens, I’m on the first floor where there is tons of commotion. It’s a parade of bald children, all giddy and excited, being ushered outside by a bunch of volunteers in blue shirts. Now those are the real circus freaks, the ones who take time out of their lives to hang out with us because they “care.” Disgruntled, I look down at my shirt as I meander through the crowd and realize it’s almost the exact same color as the volunteers’. That’s just fantastic. If anyone asks me for food or a drink I’ll slap the shit out of them. 

At least mine doesn’t say “VOLUNTEER” in big capital letters on the back, or have the hospital’s emblem in the top left corner of the chest. Hopefully people will pay attention to that and leave me the hell alone.

Eventually I make it outside to the enormous courtyard, still portraying the farce that is me using my walker. While the amount of people is highly irritating, I have to admit that if I were a kid this would look pretty awesome. There are endless tables of food, and volunteers standing behind to serve it, bouncy houses with extra padding and watchful eyes, upbeat music blasting from every direction, clowns, magicians, you name it. About the only thing I don’t see is a pony ride, but I guess with so many immune-compromised kids they couldn’t risk it.

Sighing heavily, I make my way to the food tables by skirting around the edges of the picnic. The tiny ass wheels on my walker keep getting caught up in the grass, and it’s becoming more of a hassle than help. I’m so done with this thing.

Just as I’m about to leave it standing sadly in the grass, I see an old woman who seems to be struggling her way down one of the paths, being jostled slightly by some of the over-excited children that still have the strength to run. Before I can convince myself otherwise, I make my way over and shoot her a forced smile from afar. She smiles back, strain still evident on her face. When I get over to her, I hold out the walker in front of her.

“Here.”

“Oh but don’t you need it? I’m not a patient here. I’m just an old grandma. My granddaughter is around here somewhere…” she trails off, her eyes searching vainly for her specific child in the sea of short, bald heads and tall parents.

“No I don’t need it.” I say, arranging it in front of her. She stares down at the IV tubes trailing from the bag on my hip to the inside of my forearm.

“Are you sure, sonny?” She asks, gratefulness apparent in her expression.

“Yeah, they made me use it just in case but I really don’t want it.” I assure her, offering another smile. She accepts both the smile and the walker with a nod and a ‘thank you’. I wave to her as I walk away, before shoving my hands deep into my pockets. For a second, it felt good to help out someone else. But the feeling passed and now I’m just glad to be rid of that damn walker.

Pleased with myself, I slowly walk over to the food tables where I was headed in the first place. Grabbing a sandwich, a green apple, and a bottle of water, I make my way over to the nearest picnic table. After setting my food down, I ease myself painfully onto the bench, not bothering to try and maneuver my legs under the table. Leaning against the horizontal wood, I reach back and grab my sandwich to take a bite. At least I can relax now and people watch.

Not too far away from me, there is a mild game of soccer going on between two teams of kids. I smirk, wondering if they grouped the teams by types of cancer. _Bone cancer kids over here, lung cancer over to the left! _That’d be a riot. Before I can think any more fucked up thoughts, I hear someone’s voice annoyingly close to me.__

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I look up and see a tall volunteer standing to my left, not very visible because of the sun shining down behind his head. He’s more of a silhouette than anything else. I respond with a noncommittal grunt of approval, not having the energy to tell the guy to fuck off. The walk over here kind of drained me more than I expected.

I continue to stare out at the soccer game, slow and mind numbing as parents constantly stop their children to make sure they’re okay. I say let them have fun. So what if they get hurt? They have cancer. A skinned knee won’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“Thanks, this is my first day volunteering here so I’m pretty new.” The guy next to me says, as if I give a shit about his life. In an effort to not be a complete dick, I answer him.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for a few months.” I say, keeping the conversation going.

“Isn’t this great?” He says, wistfulness audible in his voice. “The kids are having so much fun. I can’t imagine facing what they are. I could never be that brave.” He finishes. Wow, that was deep. It dawns on me in that moment that he most likely thinks I’m a volunteer, not a patient. I knew this shirt would screw me over. I finally look at him, about to say something rude, but I freeze for a moment.

Something about his face makes me hesitate. He’s got extremely dark, middle-parted hair, a squared off jaw, slightly tan skin, and deep brown eyes that reflect the wistfulness I heard in his words moments ago. Below his eyes are galaxies of freckles littering his cheeks, pulling his whole face together like a well-placed accessory. He’s watching the soccer game, but he turns to me when he notices me staring. He smiles softly, a closed mouth smile that crinkles his eyes cutely. 

_Cutely? _Shit, here we go. I’ve been pretty good my entire life at suppressing my…predisposition. It would have just been too much of a hassle to tell anyone the truth about my sexuality. My life was fine the way it was, without love or whatever the hell else people get out of relationships. But I guess with being cooped up in that hospital bed for so long, I’m getting rusty at controlling my thoughts. In a frantic effort to stop myself from thinking anything further about him in that sense, I answer him in the most dickish way I can muster.__

“They’re not brave. Being brave is choosing to face a tough situation instead of running away. There’s no running from cancer. They’re fucked whether they’re brave or not.” I answer in monotone, immediately dissipating his smile. Then he frowns, setting down the perspirating can of soda he was about to take a sip from.

“Dude, what the hell? Were you forced to volunteer here for community service punishment or something?” He accuses angrily. I laugh bitterly. I wish!

“Nah, I’m just a ‘kid’ with cancer who happened to wear the wrong color shirt today.” I say, holding out my right hand to him, the one with the IV sticking into it. I take great satisfaction from the speechlessness that falls over the guy’s now beet-red face. He takes my hand out of polite instinct and shakes it, looking anywhere but at me.

“I’m sorry.” He squeaks out finally. I slap him lightly on the shoulder, leaning back and taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Don’t be. I’m a dick. Not all of us can be the cute, innocent, bald ones on the commercials for St. Jude or CHOP. Believe it or not, assholes get terminal illnesses too.” I say with a chuckle, my mouth half full. He’s silent for a while, sipping thoughtfully from his can of coke.

“Well I guess from your point of view, what you said makes sense. I thought you were just a regular guy.” He says. I squint at him at the mention of me not being a ‘regular guy’. 

“So I’m not a regular guy?” I say, a small smirk hiding in the corner of my mouth as I watch him panic once again. Oh man, this guy is so fun to fuck with.

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry!” He says, his voice suddenly sounding small and timid. I keep a straight face for another few seconds, making him sweat it out. Then I let out a loud boisterous laugh. He stares at me in confusion but then a small smile creeps back onto his lips.

“Way to make me feel like crap…twice.” He says jokingly. I wipe a humorous tear from my eye and lean my arm on the tabletop behind me.

“You set yourself up for it the second time. I’m Jean by the way.” I say, finding myself oddly beginning to enjoy his company. As long as I keep certain thoughts from sauntering out of the back of my mind, it should be fine. Regardless, nobody wants to get with someone who’s dying. That’d just be depressing.

“I’m Marco. Nice to meet you Jean.” He says with a wide grin. God, he is pretty charming when he’s not jumping out of skin. Then again, he only got so nervous because of how much I was messing with him. He seems like someone who is usually pretty calm, cool, and collected.

“You live around here?” I ask, guzzling down some of my water.

“Yeah, I actually just moved here this summer. I started at the local high school Monday.” He says. A shot of bitterness makes its acidic way through my veins, but I push it down.

“South Trost?” I ask, fighting to hide the longing seeping into my voice.

“Yeah, you’re from around here too?” He asks. I nod. I guess I’m lucky, having a hospital with a specialized cancer unit in my hometown. So many of these kids have traveled from other states just to come here.

“Yep. I finished out my first three years there. I would have started my senior year this past week…but you know.” I trail off, hating how depressed I sound.

“I’m sorry…I’m a senior too.” He says. I’m thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic or my obvious sadness.

“Made any friends yet?” I ask. He nods with a smile.

“The people there are great. I made pretty good friends with a group of people in my study hall. Apparently every year they’ve made sure to all get study hall together. I think that’s pretty cool.” He says. I flinch at that, knowing he’s talking about _my _friends. I used to be in that study hall as well, talking, swapping snacks, and avoiding schoolwork at all costs with them.__

“By any chance, were their names Connie, Sasha, Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Reiner, Bertholdt, Krista, Ymir, and Annie?” I ask, rattling off the names of all my best friends in lightening time, the ones I used to spend countless hours with. Marco looks taken aback.

“Yeah, in fact they were.” He answers, surprise lacing his voice.

“They were my best friends. I used to be part of that group. But I don’t know, ever since I got this shit everyone started being really flaky. I barely hear from them anymore.” I say, not even trying this time to hide to dejection in my words. Marco stares at me with wide eyes for a moment and then it looks as if something clicks in his head.

“Oh! You’re the Jean they were talking about then. That’s such a crazy coincidence.” He says. I perk up at the thought of my friends at least mentioning me.

“What’d they say about me?”

“They just told me that there used to be another guy in the group but he was out of school for personal reasons.” He explains. I nod slowly, thankful that they are still at least respecting my privacy and not putting my business out there to everyone.

“Oh okay.” I mumble.

“Don’t look so sad. They seemed like really great people. I’m sure they’ll come around. They probably are so shocked they don’t know what to do.” He assures me. Putting my feelings away for the time being, I turn to him with an exaggerated pout.

“You can’t tell someone with cancer not to look sad.” I accuse him jokingly, getting an alarmed expression from him.

“I’m so-“

“Jeez Marco, if you’re going to sit here you’re going to have to get used to the cancer jokes.” I interrupt him, earning an exasperated grin from him. “I give you permission to laugh at them too.” I add, getting him to chuckle slightly.

“You’re a strange guy.” He says. I shake my head slightly and lean back. 

“Not really. I just figure joking about it is better than dwelling on the countdown.” I explain. He cocks his head slightly in confusion, which is insanely cute despite my efforts to ignore it.

“Countdown?”

“You know…like till I kick it.” I explain, trying to make it sound less horrifying than it really is. However, from the crumpling of Marco’s face, it’s obvious it didn’t work. “Dude, now you’re the one who needs to stop looking so sad.” I say, nudging him with my left elbow. He gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen and clears his throat.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. He averts his gaze from me and looks around at our surroundings. I do too for a while, until he pipes up once again.

“Say, want to play one of those carnival games over there?” He asks. I snort, my eyes landing on the tacky prizes hanging over things like the water gun game or balloon darts.

“I think those are for the kids.” I say. He raises an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you in the children’s ward?”

“Yeah but-“

“Well come on then. They can’t say anything. You have cancer!” He says, standing up and straightening out his t-shirt. I burst out laughing at his exclamation, glad that he’s loosening up a little. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some fun with this guy. To be honest, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. I stand as well, grabbing my green apple and taking a bite. Marco quickly makes business of throwing out the trash from both of our lunches in a nearby garbage can. I nod in thanks and begin to walk alongside him toward the games that are located across the massive, crowded, grassy expanse.

As we walk, we both steal glances at each other. Marco because he wants to make sure I’m okay, and me because I think he’s ridiculously attractive. I note that he has fairly muscular arms, freckles disappearing up his short sleeves. He’s also an inch or two taller than me, and he dresses way nicer than I do. Below the lame volunteer shirt is a pair of slim fitting khakis and a crisp pair of maroon Vans. For the first time ever, I feel a little self conscious about how I look. I’m obviously really skinny now; thanks chemo. And I know I’m much paler than I should be. Even though I can’t see them at the moment, I’m overly aware of the bags under my eyes that I know are ever-present these days. Damn, I’m making myself feel like shit. Focusing back on Marco, I stumble beside him as smoothly as I can.

“You probably should have kept your walker.” Marco informs me, making embarrassment burn my face and ears momentarily.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I saw you giving it to the old woman before. That, and the shirt, is why I thought you were a volunteer. But I’m assuming now that it was yours, and I already can tell you’re stubborn, so you’re probably refusing to use it.” He explains. I sigh in defeat. Marco is quite observant. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well you try looking like an old man when you’re seventeen and then tell me to use the fucking walker.” I retort. He chuckles slightly, offering me a strong arm for support. Begrudgingly, I take it.

“How’s this? I doubt it’s any less embarrassing, but I’d hate to see you fall on your face.”

“Thanks. And nah it’s not embarrassing. You’ll just look like my date.” I say with a chuckle. Surprise pops onto Marco’s face for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, and he begins to blush. I file that reaction into my brain to dwell on later, and then go to calming him down.

“It was a joke man.” I say, relaxing his expression. Looking ahead, I wonder to myself what that could mean. Either he’s a total homophobe and freaked out at the mention of anything of that sort, or he’s gay and thought I’d figured him out. Of course there’s also the possibility that he’s just plain awkward, which I’m definitely taking into consideration. 

We finally arrive at the balloon dart game, and the vendor smiles at me and hands me three darts. God, this shit is so lame. I let go of Marco’s arm that I almost forgot I was still holding onto, and take my first shot. My achy joints make me totally miss the first time, and Marco lets out a small giggle. It’s surprisingly nice to have someone laugh at me for my shortcomings instead of assure me that it’ll get better. He’s not sugarcoating my condition. I try the second time and get closer, but still don’t hit any of the balloons. I’m not frustrated, but I do let out a small sigh.

“I swear I used to have a great arm.” I say, focusing on my third and last try. Finally, I throw it. The expected pop that I thought I was get for sure this time never comes, and I stare disappointedly at the dart that sits, just touching the edge of the yellow balloon I’ve been targeting. 

“Ah, better luck next time. But you still get a prize!” The man behind the counter says happily, gesturing at the plethora of crappy stuffed animals above me.

“I’m torn between the monkey and the hippo.” I say, leaning closer to Marco with a smirk.

“Oh, definitely the hippo.” He says with feigned enthusiasm. I nod in agreement as the vendor hands it to me and tells us to enjoy the rest of the picnic. As we walk away together, I shove the medium sized, sky-blue hippo into Marco’s chest.

“What the?” He exclaims, clumsily trying to catch it before it lands on the ground.

“You talked me into that, therefore you have to hold the hippo.” I say, my voice serious. Marco laughs musically, and then holds the stupid toy in his right hand, extending his left to me. I take his upper arm gingerly, conflicted about my dependence. While I do get a good long feel of his biceps, I don’t really enjoy the sensation of depending on him so much. I just met the damn guy, yet I’m overthinking every little interaction between us.

“Fair enough.” He says, leading me back over to the picnic table we were seated at before. Once we get there and sit down, we simply talk for the remainder of the picnic. Marco is such a funny guy, and he makes me laugh plenty of times before the sun starts setting. We keep away from heavy topics such as cancer and school. While I don’t find out much about him, I do find out that I find him absolutely adorable. I love the way he smiles unabashedly at me, or the lilt in his voice when he knows he’s about to say something that will make me either laugh, smack him in the shoulder, or both. And those freckles, Jesus Christ help me.

With the sky orange above us, and the majority of the children all back in their cozy hospital beds for the evening, we part unceremoniously. Standing up from the picnic table bench, we shake hands and exchange goodbyes. He tells me that he’ll be volunteering here a lot, especially in the cancer ward, so he’s sure to see me soon enough. I have to work to hide the excitement that blooms up in me at that information. Then we turn in different directions as he makes his way to the volunteer tent to gather his things and I hobble slowly to the lobby doors of the hospital. 

Bravely, I turn back and sneak an extra glance at him. To my delight, I notice that he’s completely oblivious to the fluffy, sky-blue hippo still clutched loosely in his right hand. It stares back at me, as if letting me know that everything will be okay. I know it won’t, but for some reason I don’t feel like disagreeing right now. For now, in the lazy haze in my mind that is reminding me that I need some sleep, everything really is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will most likely alternate between Jean and Marco's POV. And yes, every time it's Jean thinking there will be cursing. It fits his personality too well! Also, if you can figure out the pattern linking all of the chapter titles together, you will make me a very happy person :)
> 
> And Marco may seem a little ooc because of how skittish he is around Jean at first, but he's ONLY like that with Jean, and it'll pass. Don't worry :p


	2. The Little Things Give You Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a disagreement with his new friends, Marco finds himself on his way to the hospital to return a certain hippo toy that he took home with him by accident.
> 
> Btw I pretty much made Marco the biggest dork on the planet in this chapter, so prepare yourselves!

MARCO’S POV

It’s almost the end of the school day, and I grin triumphantly as I round the corner and see my locker there. Finally I’m beginning to memorize the crazy layout of this school. I walk over and open it to gather everything I need to go home. After this I just have study hall, so I might as well leave straight from there. When I open the metal door, I grin again at the soft, blue hippo staring at me from its perch atop my books. 

Yesterday after I parted ways with Jean, I didn’t notice that I was still holding the thing until I was already back at the volunteer tent and he was long out of sight. So I just shoved it in my backpack and got into my car and went home. I crashed so fast once I got into my room that I never took it out. I had to frantically stop the little guy from tumbling out of my bag when I opened it this morning in history. Since then, he’s been sitting comfortably in here on top of my calculus book.

Rolling my eyes at the thought of Jean for making me carry it in the first place, I grab it and shove it in my bag along with a few other books and papers. Then I head over to study hall, where my new friends will be waiting.

When I walk in, Reiner is the first to look up and shoot me a smile, followed quickly by Bertholdt. I make my way to the back where they are all gathered at a large table and plop myself down into a seat next Reiner.

“Hey man, how’s it hanging?” He asks, offering me a fist, against which I bump mine.

“Good, you?”

“Can’t complain. Anything new?” He replies. I’m about to say the instinctual ‘not much’ that most people would, but then I think about yesterday. That’s right, these guys all used to be Jean’s friends. I frown a bit at the thought of them totally ditching him because he got cancer, but decide that there must be an explanation.

“Actually yeah. You know St. Rose’s Teaching Hospital over on the east side of town?” I ask. He cocks his head slightly.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well I started volunteering there yesterday, and guess who I ended up hanging out with for the better part of the day.” I say. He’s silent, and so is Bertholdt who is listening in from over his shoulder. “Your friend Jean.” I finish with a smile. As if I said something profane, the bustling talk around me ceases and all eyes fall on me. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, unused to such attention.

“Our Jean?” Connie asks, breaking the silence. I nod timidly, eliciting a downcast look of guilt from him. I search the others’ faces to find similar expressions.

“He’s doing well I think.” I assure them, thinking back to the confident smirk that seemed almost ever-present on Jean’s lips. “And he’s really funny.” I add.

“Wait, so he actually talked?” Armin asks from the end of the table, standing on his tiptoes to see past Mikasa’s slender frame. I nod, becoming slightly confused.

“Yeah, we talked each others’ ears off for a couple hours.” I answer. Eren throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Wow, that’s so fucked up.” He growls. I feel my eyes widen in confusion. I’ve easily come to know that Eren is quick to anger and has an overactive personality, but I don’t understand what I did wrong.

“What did I–“

“It’s not you. It’s just that ever since they stopped his last round of chemo, he practically stopped talking altogether whenever we’d visit. He’d just lay there looking miserable.” Connie explains, rubbing his right temple lazily. Sasha sets a hand on his, seemingly trying to comfort him.

“He seemed talkative enough to me…But wait, why did they stop his last round of chemo?” I ask. Connie looks down at the table silently.

“It wasn’t working.” Annie answers bluntly. I stare at her across the table, a wave of sadness washing unexpectedly over me. I barely know the guy, but I can’t shake the feeling that hits me every time I think about him no longer being on this Earth. I’ve already come to think of him as my friend.

“So you guys just stopped visiting him then? He said you guys started getting flaky.” I say, trying to look for answers to distract me from Annie’s sobering explanation.

“He didn’t seem like he wanted us there, so yeah we stopped coming.” Mikasa explains, her monotone voice piercing through me. I stare at her incredulously, wondering how these guys can call themselves his friends.

“Did any of you ever think of the possibility of him going through a bit of depression at the time? Getting a death sentence can do that to a person.” I say a bit too harshly. I’m usually a nice, friendly person. But something about Jean gets me worked up. Nobody answers me, except for looks of regret and extreme guilt. “He misses you guys. He named every single one of you…I don’t mean to come into your group and rock the boat, but he seemed like a really great person. It’s not fair to just ignore him, like that disease makes him suddenly less of a person.” I say quieter, trying to add a tad of politeness into my accusation. Once again, I’m met with frustrating silence. I sigh, leaning back in my chair, fighting the increasing desire to get up and leave. Finally, Connie exhales heavily and begins to speak.

“Does he hate us?” He asks, his voice sounding like it could break any second. I shake my head.

“No. He didn’t say anything like that. He just seemed sad that you guys basically kicked him out of your lives.” I say, once again a bit too harshly. At that, Connie turns his focus back to the table and holds his head in his hands.

“Marco, you have to understand that this has been hard on all of us. We’ve been friends with Jean since middle school, and it was difficult to see him like that.” Reiner says softly. Then Bertholdt leans around him to add his two cents. 

“He used to be so confident, and nothing that happened to him ever seemed to bring him down. And he would always joke around and mess with us. He was a bit of a dick sometimes but he was always fun to be around…Then when he wasn’t like that…” He trails off, his eyes shadowed. 

“Well the way you just described him is exactly how he was with me yesterday. So since he seems to be back up to your standards, I suggest you guys take some time to go see him soon.” I say, irritation weighing heavy in my mind. Before I can stop myself, I stand abruptly and snatch up my backpack. Then without looking back I head for the door. It won’t affect my grades if I skip study hall, so I push my unwillingness to break rules to the back of my mind and make my way to the nearest exit of the school.

Once I’ve started my car and I’m off school property, the consequences of my little display back there begin to worry me. I just pissed off all of the friends I’ve made so far at this school. My heart sinks a bit at the idea of starting over and trying to find new friends, because honestly I do really like them. I just hate how they’ve handled Jean’s sickness. 

Part of me is extremely curious as to why I feel such a strong loyalty to this guy that I just met yesterday. I would definitely consider him a friend, but we still don’t know each other that well. In fact, I don’t even know his last name, and half the time I was with him yesterday he was just messing with me. 

Inhaling slowly, I notice that I’m heading towards the hospital. I’m not assigned to be volunteering again until tomorrow, yet here I am on the main road in center city, waiting through red lights and traffic as I head to the east side of town. There’s no other reason for me to be going there except for one thing. _Jean _.__

He’s probably going to think I’m crazy or I’m a stalker or something, but then again I did tell him I’d see him soon. He doesn’t have to know that I came specifically to see him. I just feel so bad after talking to his friends. How many visitors has he gotten since they left him high and dry? 

Distracting myself for the slight anger that boils up at the thought of them, I replay yesterday’s events over in my head to boost my mood. When I first noticed Jean from afar, he was handing the old woman a walker, a broad smile on his face. I could only see his left side, so I was oblivious to the IV hanging on his right. Something about his smile caught my attention, although I’ve yet to figure out why. But it made me happy to see someone so “dedicated” to not only just caring for the kids but also those who need help for other reasons. 

Then when I was searching for a place to sit with my food, I saw him again. Alone. I thought to myself, why should a guy as nice as him be sitting alone? So I went over, hoping to make my first friend of the day. And I did, just not the kind of friend I was expecting. 

He pissed me off so much at first with his offhand comment about the kids being “fucked” whether they’re brave or not. I kept thinking to myself, what kind of person could say something like that? Then once he shook my hand, I realized that in this whole world, the only kind of person who could say that is someone who is going through the same thing. And man did I feel like a jerk for snapping on him. But he took it in stride obviously. 

I don’t know what made me continue talking to him and hanging out with him for the rest of the picnic, but it felt right. Not only did I do it for his sake, but mine as well. My jobs for the day –setting up the food beforehand and then helping to usher the children down to the courtyard– were long finished, and I’d been instructed to socialize with the patients and offer help if someone needed it. So what if I only really socialized with and helped one? I was still doing my job. 

My “job” of volunteering at the hospital is very important to me. To me it’s vital that I get experience inside a high quality institution like that before I go to college. I’ve already got my sights set high on many universities, all of them offering the best of the best when it comes to pre-med programs. I’m not quite sure if I want to be an oncologist or an immunologist yet, but I won’t need to decide that for a while. All I know right now is that I am going to become a doctor…whether I want to or not. 

I’m pulling into the parking garage now at the hospital. Once I’m parked, I grab my backpack and head inside. I already know where the children’s cancer ward is because I was up there yesterday giving directions to the picnic to parents. So I punch the number 6 in the elevator and wait. Then I do something that is a bit out of character for me. 

Unconsciously, I pull out my phone and use its reflection to check my hair momentarily. Then I look down at my outfit to make sure I look okay. Today I wore light blue Bermuda shorts, a dark brown belt, a gray long sleeved Henley, and a pair of brown, worn out Sperrys to school. I guess you could say I dress pretty prep, but it just works for me. Fleetingly, I worry that Jean will think I’m stuck up based on my outfit. I push my sleeve up to my forearms, not sure if that makes it worse or better. Then I push the thought away, questioning why I’m so worried about what he thinks in the first place. 

Then the elevator door opens suddenly and I exit into the hallway. I immediately walk over to the nursing station, trying to look as confident as possible despite the odd nervousness that is making my abdomen its new home. A younger nurse in all pink scrubs is typing away at the computer, her brow furrowed in concentration. But when she notices me she pauses to smile up at me. 

“Can I help you?” She asks in an extremely friendly voice. 

“Yes. I’m looking for Jean’s room.” I say, hoping to God she doesn’t ask for a last name. I would feel like such a moron. Instead, she squints at me for a moment and then claps her hands together happily. 

“Oh my goodness! You’re that volunteer from yesterday’s picnic, aren’t you?” She exclaims, standing up and offering her hand. I nod and shake it tentatively, wondering how she picked me out from over fifty volunteers that were in attendance yesterday. “Sorry, see I’ve been worried about Jean lately because of how depressed he’s been. So I bribed him into attending the picnic. And I was checking up on him periodically to make sure he was okay, and I was thrilled to see him hanging out with someone and actually smiling for once.” She explains. Her explanation makes me wonder why he seemed so upbeat yesterday when everyone else has been saying he’s depressed. Then I raise an eyebrow. 

“You bribed him?” I ask curiously. She laughs heartily and then reaches under her desk. She pops back up with a basket of muffins in her hand. 

“Yeah, I owe him these. You mind bringing them with you when you go to his room? I’ve been swamped with charts all afternoon and haven’t had a chance to drop by.” I chuckle at that and take the basket from her with a nod. 

“He’s in 612.” She adds before leaning forward to whisper to me. “Thank you for doing this. He hasn’t had a visitor in almost a month…That boy needs a friend.” She confides in me. 

“Of course.” I say with a weak smile. She beams back at me and waves me off in the direction of his room. Gripping the basket in my right hand, I walk down the hallway and follow the numbers with my eyes. 606, 608, 610…Oh jeez, why am I getting nervous again? 

I come to a halt in front of 612, and the door is cracked and I hear the quiet drone of the TV. Taking a deep breath for reasons unknown to me, I push the door open slowly and silently enter the room. 

When I look at the lone hospital bed on the right side of the room, at first all I see is a blanket-covered mound. Upon closer inspection I see that Jean is curled up on his side, facing the window on the far side of the room. 

“Hey Jean,” I say quietly, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to wake him if he’s asleep. No answer, so he must be napping. So I tiptoe around the bed to the other side to get a better look at him. When his face comes into view, I can’t help but smile to myself. He looks like a little kid, the way the blanket is pulled all the way up to his chin. There’s no trace of any of the expressions he displayed yesterday. Instead, a placid peacefulness has smoothed out his appearance. I take a long moment to really look at him now. 

Jean has a slender, elongated face, which is strangely charming. It’s pulled together at the bottom by a fairly pointed chin, sharpening his features. His eyes are closed, but I can remember how intense they were, even when he was laughing. I caught myself staring at them more than once yesterday, not for any specific reason other than the fact that those light brown irises simply demanded attention. 

I hold back a chuckle when my gaze strays to his hair. The ashen top layer was already fluffy enough yesterday. Now with his bedhead it’s sticking up in every direction. I resist the odd urge to smooth it down for him and remove my backpack. I find a chair that faces the foot of his bed and ease myself into the leather as silently as I can. Then I set down the basket of muffins and pull out the little hippo and set it on my lap. While it’s a bit of a bummer that I happened to come when he’s asleep, I figure I’ll leave him a note just to let him know I dropped by to return the toy. 

Luckily, I have a notebook from school in my bag so pull that out along with a pen. Then I balance it on the arm of the chair and get writing. After a pause to think about what I want to say, I swipe my pen along the lines in my best cursive. For some reason I’m overthinking this, and I find myself writing more than I planned. A few minutes and a few paragraphs later, I know I’ve dragged this on way too long. I’m not leaving the guy a love letter, just a heads up that I was here. Right as I’m about to turn to the next page to start over, I hear the shuffle of sheets from in front of me. 

When I look up, my limbs tense under Jean’s surprised and intense stare. He’s sitting up now, clutching his hospital gown where it covers his chest. Then he blinks a few times and then the corners of his lips rise slightly. 

“Marco?” He asks in a sleepy, husky voice, raking his fingers through his hair and haphazardly trying to make it look somewhat presentable. I smile bashfully and nod, shoving my pen into my shorts pocket. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I totally stole your hippo yesterday so I came by to drop it off.” I explain quickly, trying to fight the odd blush that’s creeping onto my face. He stares at me in silence for a moment, his eyes flicking down to my lap where the toy is sitting. Then he cocks his head to the side slightly. 

“What’re you writing?” He asks. I flinch at the mention of the notebook in my hand, glancing down at the stupidly long note (basically a letter) that I wrote him. I shake my head with a chuckle and dismiss it with a wave. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just going to leave you a note since you were asleep, but you’re awake now so it’s whatever.” I assure him, fumbling unsuccessfully to close the damn thing. 

“Lemme read it.” He says, that smirk of his reappearing on his thin lips. I shake my head immediately, giving up on trying to close it and resorting to just trying to shove it back into my backpack. The idea of him reading, especially with me right here, is suddenly mortifying. Of course, I drop the notebook to the floor by accident instead, only embarrassing myself further. 

“It’s really not important.” I assure him, leaning down to pick it up off the floor. I’ve totally lost the battle against the redness in my cheeks by now. 

“Oh come on, don’t be lame.” Jean whines, the tone of his voice affecting me oddly. I have half a mind to just give him the notebook because of how he sounded. It wasn’t cute. I’d never say that. I mean, he’s a dude for goodness sake. But once again my brain falls back on the same word I thought of when I looked at his face before. _Charming _.__

“Honestly it’s pretty dumb.” I argue halfheartedly, hating how mixed up he’s gotten me in just a few seconds. I’m usually so collected, but he caught me off guard. Now I’m acting like I’ve been caught red handed and I have no clue why. 

“Don’t care. Hand it over.” He insists, holding out a hand expectantly. Sighing in exasperation, I stand up and walk over to him, notebook in hand. 

“Don’t…make fun of me.” I say, my voice suddenly timid. He raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Of course I’m going to make fun of you. That’s what I do man. How else am I supposed to have fun around here?” He proclaims before turning his eyes down to the notebook he’s now holding out in front of him. 

_“Dear Jean,” _He begins, clearing his throat. Oh jeez, he’s reading it out loud?! I prepare myself for what may be the most embarrassing minute of my life and glue myself to the floor mentally in order to keep myself from running out of the room.__

_“This is Marco from the picnic yesterday. I didn’t realize until it was too late that I still had the toy that you ‘earned’ at the balloon dart game. So I stopped by to return him to you. I brought him to school today by accident too, and he almost fell out of my backpack in class. Talk about embarrassing!" _Jean snorts at the quotes around "earned" and then laughs out loud and shoots me a grin. The grin remains on his face as he goes on.__

_“So yeah, I hope you feel bad about that. But I also wanted to apologize for assuming you were a jerk at first yesterday. You’re actually a really cool guy and I enjoyed talking with you. Like I said, I’m new in town and don’t really know anyone yet, so thanks for hanging out with me._

_By the way, I never did catch your full name. Mine is Marco Bodt. Judging from your first name, I bet your last name is French of some sort. Luckily I didn’t need to know it to get the nurse to tell me your room number, because apparently she was keeping an eye on you at the picnic and she recognized me. She also asked me to give you the basket of muffins she owes you.” _Jean pauses to crane his neck to look at the basket of muffins on the floor next to my backpack.__

“Fucking Franny.” He chuckles in a fond way, despite his fowl language. After rolling his eyes, he returns his attention to the note. 

_“They smell really good, like bananas. But don’t worry, I didn’t steal any no matter how much I may have wanted to. You deserve them for putting up with me for over three hours. I hope you enjoy those, and also little hippo’s company. I think he missed you, being cooped up in my locker all day.” _I cover my eyes at that, hearing how ridiculously stupid it sounds. I don’t know why I just rambled on in the note, but I’m severely regretting it now. At least he’s at the last paragraph now.__

_“But anyway, I hope you’re feeling well and that your day has been great so far. I’m sure I’ll-“ _He finishes reading, because that’s where I cut off writing. He seems to realize that, because I can clearly hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.__

“Holy shit man.” He exclaims, smacking me lightly on the arm. I uncover my eyes to see him not smirking for once, but simply looking at me with a delighted expression with only a hint of amusement. 

“All right, all right. Give it back now.” I say, trying to end the situation as quickly as possible. I reach out for the notebook, but he slides it out of my reach. 

“Fuck that, I’m keeping this!” He proclaims, tearing the paper from my notebook as gingerly as he can while shouldering off my grabbing hands. Once he has it separate, he surrenders the notebook to me. 

“Why?” I ask, taken aback. 

“Because it’s adorable!” He explains. I notice the immediate change on his face as he realizes the possible implications of what he just said. His face turns red, although still a fraction of how flaming mine is. “I mean, it makes me smile.” He corrects himself. At that, I feel the anxious tension in my body begin to release. Even if it’s embarrassing, I am glad that it seems like I’ve made his day. I exhale slowly and then close the notebook. 

“Fair enough.” I give in, walking back over to my backpack and returning it to its rightful place, hidden from Jean’s prying eyes. Not that it matters. I doubt he’d take much interest in my anatomy and physiology notes, which is all that’s left now with the letter removed. Picking up the toy and the basket of muffins, I head back over to Jean’s bed and set them both on the table next to him. 

“Kirstein.” He says suddenly. 

“Huh?” I say, not understanding what he even just said. 

“My last name.” 

“Oh, thanks.” I answer, unsure of what to say. Isn't that German? And more importantly, why did I have to be such a dork and write all that crap? 

“So what else were you going to write at the end?” He asks, turning on his side to face me, his chin resting in his hand. For a second, I find my gaze weaving its way down to the shape of his hips underneath the blanket. Then I stop myself. What the heck is wrong with me today? 

“It doesn’t matter, really.” 

“Sure it does.” He disagrees, holding up the note with his free hand. “And I’m not letting you leave until you finish it.” 

“And if I just leave?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips. Jean then adopts what I can only describe as a puppy dog face, and it totally works on me. 

“Then I’ll cry like the sad, lonely cancer patient I am.” He says, his lower lip jutting out in an effort to guilt me further. I roll my eyes and snatch the letter from his hand. 

“You’re horrible.” I retort, still pulling my pen out anyway and setting the paper flat on the table. Before I write, I glance back up at Jean who is absolutely glowing with satisfaction. I swear this guy can read my mind, because he seems to know exactly how to get what he wants from me. 

As I continue the note, I’m extra conscious of Jean’s eyes on me the whole time. I want to look up, but I know we’ll catch gazes and it’ll end with me awkwardly looking away. I don’t know what it is about this guy that makes me so nervous and blundering. I go through the catalogue of what I know about him in my mind and can’t think of any good reason for it. 

Giving up, I concentrate on finishing the note and getting the hell out of here. If I stay too long, my mom will wonder where I went off to after school. She’s extremely overprotective now that we’ve moved away from our small town in the middle of nowhere. Here in the city, she acts as if everyone is out to get me. It’s annoying, but I know it’s just out of love. My dad, on the other hand, couldn’t care less where I go as long as my grades are in tiptop shape. 

Finally signing my name, I click my pen closed and gather up the courage to look at Jean. He’s still just grinning at me, a grin that grows substantially when I hold out the paper to him. 

“You’re the best.” He says happily, taking it and holding it out in front of him like before. 

“Wait, read it after I leave.” I interject quickly before he starts embarrassing me again. He hesitates for a moment but then sets it face down on the table. 

“All right, sensitive.” He says, raising his hands in the air defensively. Even though he’s making fun of me, I breathe a small sigh of relief. 

“Thanks. But you won’t have to wait long because I actually have to get going now.” I say, going over and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. 

“Your parents expecting you home or something?” He asks. How the heck does he literally know everything about me? I’m about to protest, but then I decide otherwise 

“Yeah.” I say resignedly. At that he hoots out a short laugh and then holds up the basket I delivered him. 

“Well take a few of these home to your folks. Hopefully that’ll keep them from grounding you for visiting terminally ill hospital patients. Really Marco, you should get your life together.” He jokes, shaking the basket slightly. I’m about to argue, but something in his look makes me want to do as he asks. So I step closer and take tenderly remove two. 

“You got two parents? He asks. I nod, slightly confused, but then panic as another muffin comes flying at my chest. Once I manage to precariously balance it in between my already full hands, Jean continues speaking. 

“Then take one for yourself too, dumbass.” He demands playfully. 

“Thank you.” I say politely, trying to adjust the muffins in my hands so I don’t feel like I’m about to drop them all. He gives a satisfactory nod and then sits up straight. 

“Thank _you _. You know, for visiting me and everything and letting me keep the note.” He says, his voice sounding sincere for what may be the first time today.__

“Of course. I’ll see you around then.” I say, turning and heading for the door. 

“Wait!” He calls urgently, causing me to stop in my tracks. I whip around to look at him, wondering what’s wrong. He’s suddenly blushing once again, and I swear to God he’s biting his lip. That’s right, biting his lip. I can’t even speak as I watch him chew lightly on the pink, supple skin. I have no clue why I’m so captivated by the small action, but I’ll address that with myself later. 

“When will…Do you think you’ll be able to visit again sometime next week?” He asks, his voice oddly timid. Even though he’s obviously uncomfortable, it’s kind of nice seeing him like this for once. 

“How’s tomorrow? I’m scheduled to help with an art class for stroke patients around three. I’ll probably be done around five if you want me to come on up.” I say, hoping I’m not being too forward. But judging from the huge smile that spreads across his face, I think it’s fine. 

“Sounds perfect. See you then!” 

“Alright, see you.” I say, turning again for the door. As I’m leaving, I hear the rustle of paper as he picks up the note from the table. Smiling to myself, I proceed down the hallway and think about what I wrote at the end of it. No doubt he’s reading it now, that smile remaining on his face. But one question plagues my mind.

Was it weird for me to write down my number at the end? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get a bit confusing for Marco, wouldn't you say? And yes, I know you might hate me for making Jean's friends suck, but things will get better I promise!


	3. Breaking The Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is intense cuteness in this chapter, and some minor flirting :p Enjoy!

JEAN’S POV:

It’s early evening and everyone on the floor seems to be settling down in preparation for dinner. I’m curled up in my bed with my little hippo tucked under my arm comfortably, as if I’m a kid. Although I may as well be a kid with the way I’m smiling giddily to myself right now. For the last few hours I’ve been rereading the last paragraph of Marco’s note over and over, just to make sure it’s real.

_“But anyway, I hope you’re feeling well and that your day has been great so far. I’m sure I’ll see you around since I’ll be volunteering here after school three times a week from now on. But just in case something comes up, I’ll put my cell number at the end of this. Let me know if you ever need anything. I hope to get to know you better soon!_

_Marco Bodt” ___

__Under his signature is his phone number, followed by a smilely face. I roll my eyes for the hundredth time at his dorkiness and then read it all again. As I read I run a finger over the beautiful loops and curls of his cursive writing, which would put my chicken scratch to shame._ _

__Once I’ve finished reading it again, I let my eyes fall closed. All I can see on the backs of my eyelids are countless freckles and a bashful smile. Well shit, so much for me not becoming attracted to him. Warning alarms go off all over my head, pleading that I refrain from going down this road again. How many times over the years have I fallen for a straight guy and had to keep silent about it?_ _

__I always speak my mind, so it’s almost torture for me to hide my feelings from someone. Yet all of that seems irrelevant when I think about how I woke up to see Marco sitting in the chair at the foot of my bed with his legs crossed, looking like a God damn male model in his outfit. I swoon at the memory of the multiple times he blushed adorably while he was here._ _

__I totally like him now, there’s no arguing with that. Marco’s devastating good looks drew me in, but it turns out he’s probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met. The note in my hand serves as testament to that. So despite the thousands of reasons why I should stop myself right now, I open the drawer in the small dresser on the right side of my bed. In it lies my almost unused cell phone. I’ve barely have touched the thing lately because I know I haven’t been contacted by anyone. But suddenly the depressing device looks as if it’s the sun itself._ _

__I pull it out and immediately add Marco as a contact, checking the note three times to make sure I put his number in correctly. Then I get to work trying to decide if I should text him. Well okay, I know I probably shouldn’t, but the real question is do I care?_ _

__Not one bit._ _

__“Hey Marco, this is Jean ☺” I type. Is the smilely face too much? Nah, he put one on the note himself so he shouldn’t be weirded out if I use one too. I press send before I can convince myself otherwise and then proceed to bury my face in my pillow like a fucking school girl with a crush. I mean I guess I am crushing on Marco, but I’m not a little girl._ _

__Not even a full minute later I hear the telltale ping of an incoming text, a sound I haven’t heard in far too long. Quickly and excitedly I look and see it’s from Marco. Unable to control my smile, I open the text with a shaky finger._ _

__“Hey! What’s up muffin man?” I laugh out loud at the nickname and then start typing. But before I can finish my text, I hear the door to my room open. Interrupted from my train of thought, I look up with an obviously annoyed expression. In walks one of the technicians, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. That’s right, I had an MRI scheduled for this evening. But with Marco’s visit it completely left my mind._ _

__“Hello Jean, are you ready for a little more testing?” The man asks, wearing an overly friendly grin. I grunt a yes and then swing my legs painfully over the side of the bed._ _

__“I don’t need the wheelchair.” I claim through gritted teeth. My joints are really fucking bad today, which is why I opted to just sleep the morning away. It makes me wish Marco were here again, because I didn’t notice even a semblance of pain when his perfect face was in view._ _

__“Sorry buddy, protocol.” He says, walking over and helping me into it. Once I’m seated, he adjusts my IV bags and whisks me away to the elevator. I fold my arms and huff internally, severely pissed off. All I want to do right now is take my ass back to bed and text Marco. I visualize him waiting for me to answer while my phone lies idly on my pillow._ _

__Once we’re at our destination, I frown even more. While I may seem like not much phases me, I’m actually very uncomfortable in those fucked up MRI machines. I mean really, was there no other way for the guy who invented them to arrange it? Every time I get into one of those things I just imagine myself being crushed slowly by the off-white plastic surrounding me. Not only that, but I also feel like all my other worries seem to come to light while I’m in there. It’s stupid, but I immediately think about unrelated things that make me panic even more as soon as I see the damn thing._ _

__This time I begin to think about my dad, reliving that fateful car accident again as I lie down gingerly on the hard surface. I was ten years old and just tall enough to finally sit shotgun. That fact alone saved my life, because the entire left side of the car was crushed when we were t-boned by a delivery truck whose driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. Before I sat in the front, I would always sit right behind my father in the back and pretend I was driving just like him._ _

__As I’m moved into the imager after they’ve finished adding contrast into my IV, slowly being enveloped by the dastardly machinery, my breathing speeds up. There was so much blood, and I was stuck in the car by my seatbelt that was caught on a piece of wrenched metal. I was mostly unharmed save for cuts from broken glass, but that was the least of my concerns. Trapped there helplessly, there was nothing I could do except stare, horrified, at the mangled body of my father. Despite my young age, I instantly knew he was no longer alive. The silhouette of his crushed face from the side becomes visible on the whiteness above me, inches from my nose._ _

__I need to fucking calm down, or else I’ll start hyperventilating and it’ll screw up the scan. Closing my eyes, I try to think of something that can counteract the hellish scenes replaying in my head. At first I imagine my mother holding me like she did when I was little, but it quickly warps into the twisted memory of the one time I walked in on her while she was cutting herself. Shit, I need to think of something else to hold myself together._ _

__My mind flits around rapidly, searching desperately for something to latch onto. Then finally, I land on the one thing that should have been obvious from the start. A certain freckled boy’s laugh sounds softly in my ears, soothing my nerves. Taking a slow, shaky breath, I think about the way Marco’s face looked when he was watching the kids play soccer at the picnic. He looked peaceful, a feeling I haven’t been able to manage in a long time. I focus on that for the remainder of my time in the machine, trying to get some of his placidness to ooze into me._ _

__“All right Jean, you’re all finished.” I finally hear from outside my confinement after who knows how long. Exhaling deeply, I wait impatiently to be released. Once I’m moved out and I can see tiled ceiling of the room again, I sit up immediately. Slightly disorientated, I wonder just how long I was in there. It feels like I was trapped for hours._ _

__“Good job Jean. Now you know the drill, you may feel a bit dizzy or experience shortness of breath for the next few hours. If those symptoms are still around tomorrow make sure you let a nurse know.” The technician informs me. I’ve had enough MRIs by now to know that I’m not allergic to the contrast they inject me with, but I nod anyway. This time I don’t argue as he helps me into the wheelchair. I simply stare ahead, eyes half-lidded, as he takes me back up to my room.  
When I finally am taken back into the familiar box that has become my living space, I’m helped back into my bed, which was freshly made while I was gone. Once the technician leaves and I’m alone once again, I fumble around for my cell phone. Where’d they put it when they made my bed? I’m frustrated not only with them but also with my own dizziness as I turn left and right, searching for it. Finally I find it behind the basket of muffins, which I still haven’t moved from its spot on the table to my left where Marco placed it earlier. I’ve been so distracted since he left that I haven’t even touched them. If I didn’t feel nauseous right now I’d probably indulge in one. _ _

__Finally I look at my cell phone and see that I have another text from Marco from about a half hour after he sent the last one._ _

__“I was just kidding with the muffin man thing lol.” It says. I grin slightly at it. How cute is that? He’s worried he offended me or something. I quickly answer him, perking up a bit from my drug-induced haze._ _

__“Nah, I like it. I had to get an MRI that’s all. Sorry!” I assure him. Then I wait, reflecting briefly on my experience inside the machine. Usually, absolutely nothing can calm me down in there. Numerous times they’ve had to either remind me to keep still or restart the whole thing because of how much I panic. I guess I could call it claustrophobia, but it’s more than that. Tight spaces don’t really bother me except for when I’m in there. Would that just be called MRI phobia? No, that sounds fucking stupid._ _

__But the fact that thoughts of Marco calmed me down is astounding to me. Maybe it’s just because I don’t have any negative memories of him yet, or maybe it has something to do with his personality. He’s so…I don’t even know. It’s crazy for me to be thinking about a guy I met yesterday like this, but I can’t help it. Marco seems like he’s always kind, and I can tell he’s smart. He knows that I manipulate him with my jibes and joking guilt trips, but I feel like he gives in anyway because he knows it makes me happy when he does._ _

__When he’s around, I forget about all the pain that racks my body every minute of every day. My death, looming constantly closer, backs off momentarily in his presence. It’s crazy to think he’s changed my habit of hating just about everything after just hanging out with me twice, but that’s how it feels. I can smile now, and it’s not bitter or sarcastic, just a happy smile._ _

__Although I’ve got to keep a grip on myself, before I slip too far into this infatuation. I’m about ninety percent sure he’s straight. Besides, even if he did like guys, I doubt I’m his type. Most people like to get with living people. And I don’t even want to think about how shitty I look compared to him. He’s so handsome, and I look like I already have one foot in the grave._ _

__Yet I can’t fight those tendrils of hope flicking at my heels. He gave me his arm at the picnic, and he came here just to return that stupid toy, he planned on leaving me a letter when I was asleep, and he gave me his number. How can I not that take all that in a heartfelt way?_ _

__My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Marco’s response, so I raise my phone again and read it._ _

__“Don’t be sorry. How’d it go?”_ _

__“Pretty shitty. I’ve always hated those things.” I reply honestly, deciding to leave out the fact that I focused on him for the better part of an hour just to keep myself sane. Yeah, that’d sound just a tad creepy._ _

__“Damn that sucks. What were they looking for?” He responds after a few moments. I frown at that because I have no fucking idea._ _

__“Idk man, I just do what they tell me. Cancer I guess?” I answer, hoping I don’t sound like a total moron. I reread again and decide that I do sound like a moron. Oh well, I already sent it._ _

__“Well hopefully they don’t find any ☺” is Marco’s response. I smile to myself. Why is he so damn cute and sweet?_ _

__“Lol that’d be nice. Maybe then we could hang out somewhere other than the hospital.” I say, quickly trying to veer off the topic of my sickness. Shit, did I seem like I was flirting in that text? Hopefully he doesn’t take it that way…Unless he actually is gay, then that’d be awesome if he took it that way._ _

__“True that. Where do you want to go when that happens? :p” I reread his text at least ten times, my eyes always lingering on the emoticon at the end. Did he really send me a tongue face? Damn, I have no clue what to think now, except that he’s really fucking cute._ _

__“Hmm, you decide.” I type awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say._ _

__“No way jose. You’re the one who’s cooped up in there all the time. It’s up to you.” He answers. I laugh out loud at his first sentence._ _

__“Did you really just say no way jose? :p”_ _

__“Yep xD But really, if I’m going to take you out we’re going where you want.” Marco replies. I gawk at his text for a long moment. Take me out? Shit, is he actually flirting with me? I think he is!_ _

__“Take me out?” I ask, deciding I should make sure of his intentions before I start hinting anything._ _

__“Like out of the hospital…lol” He answers disappointingly. Either that or he’s trying to cover for himself. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend or anything like that, so I have no clue how to tell if a guy is gay or not._ _

__“Damn, I thought our first date at the picnic went well. I was hoping for a second one! ;)” I answer, testing the waters. Okay, maybe that was more like cannonballing into the water, but fuck it. There’s no harm in laying it on a little thick. It’s a joke anyway so I can always take it back. It takes a few minutes for Marco to answer._ _

__“Oh, it was great lmao! Round two is fine with me :D” Okay, we’re definitely flirting now. I don’t care if he’s the straightest guy alive, there’s no denying it at this point. Even if we are just joking, it’s still something. It’s proof that I might have a chance with this guy._ _

__“Good ☺ I’ll get back to you on location after my results come back.” I answer happily. I snicker to myself quietly, imagining if my cancer actually was magically gone and him and I went on a date. That’d be the day…But by the achy pain circulating through me, I’m pretty sure I can assume I still have just as much cancer as I did yesterday._ _

__Once I focus on the pain, even for a moment, I feel myself growing tired. It’s not really a need for rest, but more of a defense mechanism my body has come up with. If I sleep I won’t feel the pain. So more often than not I’m passed out in this bed, doing absolutely nothing with myself. And despite the fact that I’m really enjoying talking to Marco, my body is taking over and my eyes are beginning to droop. I have to try many times to get my eyes to focus before I can read his text when he replies._ _

__“Sounds like a plan ☺ So how are you?” I read. The words keeps swimming around in my vision, letters over lapping and mixing with one another. Shit, I hate how quickly I find myself unable to stay awake all of the sudden._ _

__“Pretty tired” I type with sluggish fingers, arguing with them internally to press the correct keys. Once I’ve finally got it sent, I allow myself to rest my eyes for just a second. But soon I’m snuggling deeper into my sheets, taking solace in the addicting comfort that unconsciousness offers. I’m completely oblivious to the small, high-pitched sound of Marco’s answer, because sleep in already overtaking me._ _

__My last thoughts for the night are about Marco, and how nice it would be if we had met under different circumstances. I imagine myself healthy, free to go wherever I like with him, and maybe even having a few classes together. What doesn’t cross my mind however is the outcome of my MRI scan, probably being looked over currently as I drift off._ _

__In reality, that should be what I’m most concerned about. But hey, I never said I had my priorities straight._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all very curious about the results of Jean's MRI! I promise I didn't just put that in there to have a freakout moment for him lol, even though it was interesting to write. Stay tuned for the next chapter when we get some intense Marco backstory! Because Jean can't be the only one with problems here :p


	4. Nobody's Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Marco's family! And hooray for foreshadowed backstory!

MARCO’S POV:

“Oh okay, I’ll let you go then if you’re tired. I hope you sleep well. Night! ☺” I respond to Jean’s text after he tells me that he’s “pretty tired.” Then I flop onto my bed and my head lands squarely on my pillow. Staring at the ceiling, I wonder when I’ll get used to it. Back in our old home in Jinae City, my bedroom ceiling was made up of large, white drop-ceiling tiles. Here however, it’s smooth and beige, which is surprisingly calming. With no patterns to follow in the black pockmarks like I had in the past, I find it easier to think.

Jean sure is an interesting guy, and it’s odd how close I feel to him already. I wouldn’t call him a best friend though, because let’s be honest. We know nothing about each other. All I know about him is that he like banana muffins, he really likes to mess with me, and he has cancer. And all he knows about me is that I volunteer at the hospital, I attend his old school, and I _don’t _have cancer. Actually scratch that, after today’s events he also now knows that I’m extremely dorky.__

But hey, he doesn’t seem to mind. I think back to the nurse’s words earlier before I went to his room. _That boy needs a friend _…Yeah I guess he does need a friend. From what she told me, nobody comes to visit him. That fact makes me wonder about his family life, but I’ll save that for another time. For now I’ll just make sure to be that friend he needs.__

I hope he makes sure to be my friend as well.

As strange as it is, I’ve never really had many close friends. I’ve always been the guy who everyone liked, but nobody knew that well. I guess that’s my fault for being so absorbed in my studies all these years. Or should I say my father’s, with his strict curfews and ridiculous expectations. But I still wish I worked harder to form relationships. I don’t have anyone back home to call or text about my new life here in Trost.

But maybe, if Jean and I become better friends, I’ll at least have someone here to talk to about my old life. Sighing in contentment, I decide to allow myself to relax a little before dinner. So I roll off of my bed and make my way over to my closet. Opening it slowly, I gingerly take hold of the neck of my most prized (and most secret) possession.

My acoustic guitar is my guilty pleasure. I settle down on my bed and rest it on my lap. Blowing off the dust from lack of use, I let myself smile freely. Flipping through songs internally in my head, I decide to play one of my old favorites, Everybody’s Talkin’ by Harry Nilsson. But I do so quietly, because I don’t want to know what would happen if my father heard me.

_“Everybody’s talkin’ at me. I don’t hear a word they’re saying. Only the echoes of my mind.” _I sing softly, taking the song slow and sweet.__

In my father’s eyes, nothing is more important than my schoolwork, and I mean nothing. Dr. Bodt won’t settle for anything less than perfection from his youngest son, who was born to follow the same path he did and become a medical doctor. Luckily we moved here so that he could open up his own practice, which means I don’t run the risk of running into him when I’m volunteering at the hospital. In fact, I had to beg him to let me volunteer there because he was concerned it’d interfere with my studies. I convinced him by promising it would be of great benefit to my future career, and that’s true. But really I just needed something besides school to get me out of the house and away from him.

_“I’m goin’ where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain. Going where the weather suits my clothes.” _My voice lays the words gently one after another. Part of me wishes they applied to me, that I had to freedom to live how I please. But I could never have the courage to stand up to my old man. There’s something about him that prevents me from questioning him openly. He’s both extremely smart and extremely close-minded.__

_“Backing off the Northeast wind, sailing on summer breeze, and skipping over the ocean like a stone.” _I continue, feeling my worries smooth out under the tender pressure of the lyrics. My eyes fall closed and for a few moments, I can see myself not as a doctor but as a musician. I’m on stage, and the audience watches in awed silence as I serenade them. None of my emotions or wants or goals have to be kept in anymore. My fingertips are calloused from playing guitar night after night, but the strings still feel warm under my touch. Here, I’m my own person…__

“Marco, dinner!” I hear abruptly from downstairs, shattering my imaginary setting. 

Damn. 

Not even giving myself a moment to mourn for my fantasy’s untimely end, I snap into action and return my guitar to its hiding place in my closet. Then I quickly leave my room and hop down the stairs. 

“Can you set the table dear?” My mom asks as I enter the kitchen. I nod and begin to gather up the various dishes we need to eat. As I’m placing them on the table in the dining room, my father enters. We pass by each other wordlessly as he takes his usual seat at the head of the table. I still think it’s pointless that we have such a big, fancy table when there are only three of us living here. I have an older brother named Nac, but he’s a junior in college and he’s closer to our hometown than he is to Trost. He rarely visited when we still lived in Jinae City, so I doubt we’ll be seeing much of him at all now. We do get along really well though, so I make a mental note to call him later to catch up.

Once the table is set, I sit down at my seat, the one with the perfect view of the dining room window. I religiously sit here, because it’s easiest to stare out the window and ignore my parents here. As if on cue, my dad clears his throat and takes his glasses off to clean them on his shirt. I know that means he’s going to bring something up that he’s not happy with. I sigh quietly, preparing myself.

“Your mom mentioned earlier that you came home a bit late from school today.” He says nonchalantly. Here we go. “You weren’t staying after for help were you? Are you having trouble in any of your classes?”

“No, my classes are great. We haven’t even done that much yet, since the year just started.” I explain. He replaces his glasses on his face while my mom sets the food on the table and takes her seat.

“Then where were you?” She asks, her voice sweet but also concerned. Leave it to my parents to make a big deal about me coming home a mere fifteen minutes later than usual. My dad raises an eyebrow at me while he begins serving himself.

“I was at the hospital for bit, visiting a patient I met at the picnic yesterday evening.” I admit, knowing exactly what my dad will respond with. Predictably, he sets down his fork and gives me a look that makes me feel like a complete idiot every time he hits me with it.

“If you met at the picnic, that means that this kid has cancer. One of the first rules of doctor-patient conduct is not to get attached to your patients, especially children. It’ll only hurt you and distract you from what’s important.” He scolds, disappointment weighing heavily in his voice.

“Jean’s not a kid. He’s my age. And I’m not a doctor dad.” I argue quietly, staring down at my empty plate.

“So this John guy is your friend? We bring you to a better life here in the city and the only friend you manage to make is a guy already on his way out?” He asks, letting out a bitter laugh. I flinch at the casual way he insinuates Jean’s death, but continue to look at my plate.

“Yes, he’s my friend. And he’s not on his way out…He could get better.” I mumble.

“That kind of hopefulness is for his family and his real friends. Those people will pray for a miracle until his last breath, but we’re intellectuals Marco.”

“So you never hope that your patients will get better?” I ask. My dad is cardiologist, and he sees patients die all the time. He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Of course not. I either know they’ll get better, or I know they’ll die. There are only so many things we, as doctors, can do Marco. Hoping is not one of them.”

“I’m not a doctor yet.” I remind him again, feeling myself sinking lower and lower.

“But you will be, which is why you need to kick this habit now before you put yourself at risk.”

“At risk for what?” I ask, finally looking at him, glaring into his beady yet intelligent eyes.

“At risk of hurting your future. When John runs out of time, you’ll be affected emotionally and it could hurt your grades and–“

“It’s Jean, not John.” I interrupt him angrily, my voice rising in volume slightly. But as soon as I do, I regret it. He frowns at me, a terrifying look that I’ve come to know well over the years. My body tenses when I see his hand come down slowly onto the edge of the table and grip it. I suck in my breath as he starts to get up. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut…

“Let’s not worry about this right now you two. Can’t we just enjoy each others’ company at the dinner table for once?” My mom interjects quickly, panic evident on her face and in her high pitched tone. I exhale heavily in relief when my father glances at her and then retakes his seat, busying himself with both his food and his goal of shooting me a disdainful look every thirty seconds for the rest of the meal. We’re silent for the rest of time, and I utilize my great view of the window, watching every small bird or squirrel that passes through our front yard with envy. They may live simple lives, driven only by the needs to mate and eat. But at least the can live how they please.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“God, he’s such a douche. I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with him anymore. I’m sorry baby bro.” Nac says, his voice sympathetic. I’m sitting on the floor of my room, leaning against my bed and smiling as I talk quietly on the phone with my brother. I always go to him for advice, and he’s the only person in the world that knows who I really am.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you don’t have to deal with him anymore too.” I agree. I hear him laugh on the other end.

“Yeah, that is until he finds out about my switch. I think I’ll leave that for graduation day.” He says. I chuckle, knowing that’s an absolutely horrible idea. My parents sent Nac to college as a nuclear medicine technologies major, but he switched to theater his sophomore year and they still have no idea.

“I think dad would literally explode.” 

“Sounds like a win-win to me.” Nac jokes, knowing I hate our father just as much as he does. He treated Nac the exact same way when he lived with us, and we share the same feelings towards his obsessive control over our life decisions.

“True. But how are you and Mylius?” I ask. Oh yeah, Nac is gay. Yet another secret we keep from our parents at all costs. I’m the only person in the family who knows about it, just like he’s the only one who knows about my guitar…Okay maybe being gay is a bit bigger of a deal than playing guitar, but we’ll both keep each other’s secrets to the grave.

“We’re great! Oh Marco, you have no idea how perfect he is. I want you to meet him so badly, but I can’t exactly bring him with when I visit home.” He says, his voice betraying how smitten he is. I can’t help but grin madly at that. Honestly, it makes me so happy to know my brother is finally being who he wants to be and loving whom he wants. I hope to live like that eventually.

“I’m sure one day we’ll figure something out.” I assure him, already trying to come up with excuses to tell our parents so that they’ll allow me to drive out to Nac’s college.

“Yeah I know. But hey, tell me more about the cutie with cancer!” He says. I scoff at his nickname for Jean and shake my head.

“Jean? How do you know he’s cute? I didn’t even tell you what he looks like.” I answer, not realizing what I said until it’s too late.

“So he is cute! I knew it! Do you like him?” He presses. I roll my eyes despite the odd pit in my stomach and try to debunk his theory.

“That’s not what I meant. And no, it’s not like that Nac.”

“Mhm. I’m just saying, being gay is in the DNA man. And since you and I pretty much have the same genes, I don’t see why it can’t be possible.” He explains. I huff lightheartedly in response.

“Trying to recruit members for the LGBT club on your campus or something?” I joke. I hear him bark a loud laugh through the phone.

“You know it! But really, what does Don Jean look like?” He says. I chuckle at his clever comparison to Don Juan, a legendary, fictional man in who was famous for his ways with women.

“Don Jean? Good one. He’s not trying to seduce me though.” I argue.

“You don’t know that. Now spill already before Mylius gets here and I have to go!” He whines, adding on a few pleases, the last one being petty with a cherry on top. Eventually I give in, mostly because I know Nac will never let it go.

“Ugh fine. He has light brown hair up top that’s kind of fluffy but it’s darker brown in his undercut. He’s little shorter than me, but not by much. And he has light brown eyes…and I don’t really know how to explain it but he has a really intense look. Like when he looks at you, you can tell he’s really looking at you…” I trail off, my voice quiet. 

“Oh. My. God. You like him!” Nac practically yells into the phone. “Looks like you’re following in your big brother’s footsteps!”

“I don’t like him. I just think he’s really cool and we’re friends.” I assure him, frowning at his accusation.

“Oh come on, there are people here I’ve been friends with since freshman year and I still couldn’t tell you their eye color if you asked. And I definitely don’t notice the way people look at me. I notice the way Mylius looks at me, but that’s because I like him.” He insists, speaking faster with excitement.

“Nac, I’m really not gay. I swear.”

“You can deny all you want Baby-Bodt, but let’s be honest. You’ve only been with one girl your whole life and we all know how that went.” Nac points out, bringing back a flood of unhappy memories and secrets.

“Okay. One, you promised you wouldn’t bring her up anymore. Two, just because she screwed me over doesn’t mean that I’m going to switch to guys because of it. Now there’s nothing wrong with liking guys, but I just don’t.” I insist, trying to get through to him. My mood is dampening a bit from the past that he brought up, but I try to push it out of my mind before I end up snapping at him.

“Sorry, I forgot. But okay, whatever you say Marco Polo. But if you come around, don’t forget to update me.”

“You have such a knack for coming up with stupid nicknames. But yeah, I’ll be sure to update you if I magically start wanting dick.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it!” He replies happily, causing me to completely crack up. Nac always knows how to cheer me up, even when he’s getting on my last nerve at the same time. I really am glad to have him as my brother.

“Oh, Mylius is here now so I gotta go. Don’t hesitate to call me again if you ever need to vent. Talk to you soon music man.” He abruptly bids me goodbye. 

“Alright, tell him I said hi. And yeah I’m sure you’ll hear from me soon. Talk to you later.” I say. Soon I hear the click of the conversation ending and I set my phone in my lap. Leaning my head back onto my bed, I begin to stare up at the ceiling again, reflecting. I probably do this more often than most, just thinking and trying to make sense of things in my head.

My thoughts immediately latch on to Nac’s accusations on the phone. I love my brother, but he likes to think that the whole world is like him. If that were the case, then the human race would die out quickly. But I guess it would be worth it if people were living how they wanted to, as stupid as that sounds.

I close my eyes and sigh heavily. All that sixties music I listen to and play on guitar must be getting to my head, because lately freedom is the only thing I can focus on. It dangles just out of my reach, held up high by my father, who laughs in my face and views me as lesser. I know I should love him anyway because he’s my father, but it’s hard.

Images flash quickly through my head, images of his disapproving glare. Then images of grades less than an A on tests or papers, and the panic and cold sweat that accompanied them. Like he said, he’s an intellectual, so he knows how to hide his abuse well. He never touches my face because he knows people will notice that right away. My arms are usually spared as well. Instead he focuses his rage towards my torso, back and abdomen, carefully aiming punches just below the bottom of my ribcage or shoving me roughly against a wall so that the breath rushes out of me in a way more painful than I can describe.

My mom knows it happens, but she often doesn’t try to protect me unless it’s happening right in front of her. There have been times when I’ve known for a fact that she can hear my cries from upstairs in her room, but she pretends she doesn’t notice…It took me a while to figure out why she’d let this happen if she loves me, but after countless nights of thought I came to a realization. My dad never hurts her, and she wants it to stay that way. If she keeps to the sidelines as much as she can, no harm will come to her. In turn, she’s let both Nac and me deal with the brunt of my father’s outbursts our entire lives. Except now it’s just me left.

But in a year I’ll be out of here. Even if I’m at pre-med school like my father wants, at least I’ll be away from him. That’s the silver lining that’s kept me going through all of this, now matter how thin and tenuous it is. I manage to keep myself relatively happy by compartmentalizing. When I’m around him I can deal with the emotions that come with his presence, but while I’m away I don’t let myself think about it. Otherwise I’d be bitter all the time and I’d never be able to enjoy anything.

Speaking of enjoying things away from home, I have to finish my homework so that I can get some sleep. I don’t want to be tired tomorrow at the hospital when I assist that art class, _and see Jean afterwards. _Grabbing up my notebook, the same one that contained that God-awful note earlier today, I make my way over to my desk to continue my anatomy and physiology notes. A small smile refuses to stop playing on my lips as I think back to our conversation through texts earlier. Jean’s easy to talk to and he always has a joke up his sleeve, keeping me on my toes. That’s why I like spending time with him, not because I like him in the way that Nac thinks. So what if Jean has me grinning like a madman while working on the most boring homework in history?__

I’m not gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it, Marco's shitty family. Except for Nac, because he's perfect <3 Next chapter, Jean gets some big news and Marco helps him make an important life decision.


	5. By Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is depressed as hell and it's Marco who convinces him to make the right decision when it comes to his health.

JEAN’S POV:

“You’re not fucking with me right?” I ask, staring at Dr. Hallworth in disbelief. He clears his throat and frowns at my bad language but I ignore it completely. I can’t worry about manners when I’m dealing with news this big.

“No Jean, I wouldn’t do that. As soon as your grandparents fax over the singed consent forms, we’ll be ready to start back up.” He assures me seriously. I lean back into my bed, staring blankly around my for walls for a few moments. A few seconds ago, he walked into my room and announced that he looked at the results of my MRI from yesterday evening. I was expecting a simple ‘congrats, you still have cancer’, but instead he told me that things are looking up a little bit and that I can try chemotherapy again if I’m up to it. _If I’m up to it. ___

__“You don’t have to make a decision right now. I can come back later if you like.” He offers, understanding on his face. I turn my unfocused gaze to him and nod silently, at a loss for words. He nods and stands slowly. Setting a hand on my bed, he smiles softly at me._ _

__“I’ll be by this evening to talk to you about it again. Just keep in mind that this is your second chance. It’ll be hard as you know, but it’s the only way…The only possibility at this point.” He advises before leaving. I don’t respond, turning my head to the window, where the shadows are telling me it’s at least after four o’ clock. Where did the day go? Today I slept in, picked at my breakfast, debated about texting Marco before remembering he was at school, slept, shunned my lunch, showered, slept some more, and then that’s when Dr. Hallworth came in with the big news._ _

__I begin to think back to how I used to spend my weekdays this time of year before all of this. I’d wake up early to go for a long, invigorating run before school. Upon my return I’d shower and make omelets for my me and my mom, wrapping hers up and leaving it in the fridge for her to heat up when she got home from night shift. Then it’d be off to school, and after that I’d go to my job at one of the local restaurants. I was a waiter there at Maria’s, and more often than not I’d end up serving my friends who always showed up there just to bother me. I always told them to stop coming, but in reality it always made my day when they’d come in and put a bunch of tables together to my boss’s dismay, the boisterous group they were._ _

__After work I’d walk home on exhausted legs, letting myself feel the night air taking away the overbearing smell of Italian food lingering in my black button up and dress pants. Those walks home were the only times when I really let myself think. Sometimes I’d think about my late father and my mother’s depression. But mostly I’d think about myself, wondering if I’d ever be truly happy. I was usually content with my life and how it was going, despite hiccups here and there with my mom. I didn’t mind working hard or helping with the bills. What I did mind was how lonely I could feel even when friends surrounded me._ _

__It was only during those walks home that I let myself admit that I was wearing a mask my whole life. I’d look up at the sky, or a tree, or a streetlight, or whatever was above me at the time and let myself be unhappy. I’d let myself be depressed, overworked, stressed, tired, lonely, and _gay _.___ _

____And now as I waste away in my hospital bed and think over what Dr. Hallworth told me, I’m feeling all those things all over again. Do I want to go through all the pain that comes with chemotherapy just so I can potentially survive and go back to that? Now if I recover I won’t even have my mom anymore, and I don’t know about my friends. I could be even more alone than I was in the first place, and even more miserable._ _ _ _

____I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to concentrate and weigh the consequences in my head. If I choose not to do the treatment, I’ll die. But if I do, I’ll have to go through months of terrible pain just to go back to an even shittier life than I had originally. And the chemo might not even work anyway, and I could go through it all and still die regardless._ _ _ _

____Right now it’s very hard for me to justify committing to it again. To me personally, going through that feels more like dying than actually dying does. It was hell the first time, and it didn’t even stop the progress of the disease at all._ _ _ _

____At least last time I had my friends still around, and my mom was allowed to come for short visits back then too. But now my friends have moved on with their lives, and my mother has deteriorated to an entirely different person. I doubt she even gives a shit about me at this point. I truly have nobody now to help me through this…_ _ _ _

____“Hey,” I hear abruptly yet quietly to my left. I whip my head around to see a tall, handsome, freckled boy in an extremely dorky, blue volunteer shirt standing in my doorway. Of course, how could I have forgotten about Marco? Probably because we just met the other day. I hesitate for a moment, thinking it over. Even if he were to visit often, it wouldn’t be the kind of support I’ll need during chemo, the support of someone who cares deeply for me. At that I realize that _nobody _really cares deeply for me at the moment. How fucking depressing is that?___ _ _ _

______“I just finished up teaching that art class I told you about, so I’m all yours for the evening.” Marco says cheerfully, smiling in greeting. I smile sadly back, noticing something off about him. I know it’s too soon to assume I know everything about his mannerisms, but I can’t help but note that his shoulders are drooping slightly. Also, the cheerfulness in his voice seems slightly forced today and his smile isn’t quite reaching his big, brown eyes. He seems either upset about something or extremely exhausted. Either way, he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide it from me._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What’s wrong?” I ask plainly, watching him grab the chair at the foot of my bed and dragging it to my left side._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” He replies predictably, plopping down on the chair, a strangely ungraceful motion coming from Marco who’s usually so elegant in his movements when I’m not messing with him or throwing stuff at him. I study his face for a long moment, taking in the thin line that his mouth has become and the visibly bloodshot whites of his eyes. The skin around them is slightly pink and puffy, which means he’s been rubbing them a lot._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Have you been crying?” I ask, possibly a bit insensitive in my delivery, but I’ve never been good with stuff like that. No sense in beating around the bush when I could spend that time finding out what’s eating him and fixing it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What? No!” He retorts, frowning at me defensively. He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. I let out a small, mildly amused sigh._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, let me rephrase that question since I already know you’ve been crying. _Why _have you been crying?”___ _ _ _ _ _

________“How do you know I was crying?” He asks, his frown deepening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Because I can see it on your face. Come on, I’m not going to tell anyone.” I assure him. “You’re the only person I even talk to anyway.” I add, trying to lighten the depressing comment with a small chuckle. He stares at me for a long moment, seeming to weigh the consequences in his head. Then he exhales heavily and runs a hand roughly through his hair, staring across the room at nothing in particular I’m sure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I can’t get anything past you,” He starts with an embarrassed laugh. “You don’t have to worry about it though. I don’t want to push my problems onto you in your situation. It’s really nothing.” He informs me. I knit my brows together and lean closer to him, scrutinizing his face more closely. He avoids my gaze still. Something’s really getting to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Just because your problem ¬–whatever it is– isn’t cancer, doesn’t mean it’s not still a problem. Besides, you’d be surprised how much I would enjoy talking about pretty much anything else besides me being sick. In here, the only time people do talk to me is when it’s about the big C.” I assure him, finally getting Marco to look at me. His eyes are wide, like he’s surprised by my words or something. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it and looks down for a few moments. I wait patiently, figuring that whatever he’s about to tell me is either serious or embarrassing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________While I wait for him to gather his words, which takes several silent minutes, I allow myself the luxury of staring at his face freely. He knows that I’m waiting for him to start talking, so he shouldn’t think it’s weird that I’m looking at him, right? My eyes of course land on his own first, now downcast in concentration. Those brown orbs harbor wisdom and intelligence beyond our years, wisdom that I can only hope to achieve one day. When we were talking at the picnic, he told me about how well he does in school and how he’ll most likely have his choice of Ivy League universities after this year. I can see the intelligence in his eyes, and it amazes me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Unfortunately, mingling with that intelligence is the obvious sadness that is plaguing him today. I just want him to tell me what’s going on so I can try to make it go away. I’m not usually very sensitive to people’s feelings and I’m definitely not what you would call sympathetic, but I feel a little different about a lot of things when it comes to Marco. It’s stupid because we don’t even know each other that well, but hell, I like the guy. Being attracted to someone always changes the rules of the game._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________I immediately snap back into reality when Marco opens his mouth to speak again. He looks so nervous that it scares me for a moment. Could something really bad be going on with him?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I uh…My dad and I got in a fight this morning. That’s all.” He says shakily, avoiding my gaze again. I know that can’t be all of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What’d you fight about?” I ask, knowing I’m prying but also knowing that I won’t be able to help if I don’t know what actually happened. Marco glances at me and lets out a small, bitter laugh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s stupid, like really stupid. But we actually fought over the pronunciation of your name.” He admits, pressing two fingers deeply into his temple. I frown, turning so that I’m lying on my side and facing him, my cheek resting on the heel of my hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Lemme guess, he called me Gene.” I say lightheartedly, trying to cheer him up a bit. He chuckles again, his smile slight and constrained._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Actually no, he called you John. That wasn’t really why we fought though. It’s just what we fought about.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh, that’s not so bad then. But I don’t understand. Isn’t why you fight and what you fight about the same thing?” I ask. He shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes, no doubt trying to figure out a way to explain what he means in a way I’ll understand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Not necessarily. We fought about your name this morning, but why I was really mad at him was because of some things he said at dinner last night.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What’d he say?” I ask, becoming more curious by the second. I still don’t understand why I was brought up with his dad in the first place, but it makes me feel warm for some reason. I like the fact that he mentions me to other people outside of the hospital, even if it does apparently start problems._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s really not important…I’d rather not say.” He stutters, looking panicked for a moment. I sigh, but I don’t press any further. Whatever it is, he really doesn’t want to talk about it and I should respect that. Usually I’m much more nosy but his expression makes me clamp down my curiosity for the time being._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Fair enough.” I reply, giving him a small smile to assure him that I understand. He smiles back, still forced, and then tilts his head slightly in question._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So what’s got _you _down?” He asks.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What do you mean?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well before I came in you looked about as miserable as they come. Like extra miserable, not just the usual ‘I have cancer’ miserable.” Marco explains, taking over the role of the questioner it seems. I can’t stop my emotions from showing on my face as I think about Dr. Hallworth’s news. It’s depressing how sad good news like this makes me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’re going to think I’m out of my mind if I tell you.” I say, trying to at least give some type of warning for the nonsensicalness of my ‘problem.’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ve already thought you’re out of your mind since ten seconds after I met you, so it won’t make a difference.” Marco says, finally showing me a grin that is truthful. With a face like that looking at me, I can’t help but open up to him. When he’s around it’s hard to keep my entire personality from just spilling out all over him. I want him to know me, and like me, and care about me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“True…All right. So don’t freak out, but my doctor came in a little before you got here and told me that the MRI came back with good signs and that I can start chemo again. It didn’t work last time I got it, so I don’t know if it’ll work this time either. But he said it’s my last chance if I ever want to try to get better.” I explain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The expression Marco exhibits may just be the most beautiful and uplifting thing I’ve ever seen. If only I could take a damn picture of this guy. The surprised, relieved, and altogether joyful look he’s giving me is enough to momentarily make me forget why I even doubted myself in the first place. It’s as if I just told a ten year old that he’s going to Disney World._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh my goodness. Jean…that’s great news!” He finally exclaims after a long moment of surprised silence. His hand comes up and rests on my shoulder for a few seconds, leaving my skin tingling happily and my head spinning. After gathering my wits once again, I give him a sad smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, it is…But uh, I don’t know if I want to do it,” I go on to inform him, scratching my head nervously. I watch Marco’s face crumple devastatingly, and I immediately regret saying anything at all. He doesn’t answer, but simply stares at me in bitter disbelief. I take in a shuddering breath before going on. “It’s just really hard…harder than it looks. And I don’t think I can go through it again.” I finish softly. Marco is growing more distressed by the second and he stands up. I’ve never actually seen someone actually pace the floor besides characters in movies, but Marco does just that, his hands resting on his hips. He stares at the blue and white tiles below us, frowning severely. I remain silent, letting him think._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“But you’ll die.” He finally whispers after several minutes. I simply nod in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. He throws his hands up in frustration, glaring at me in distress. I’ve never seen Marco angry before, and despite how cute he looks I hate seeing him like this and knowing I’ve caused it.  
“Why do you want to die?” He asks suddenly, his voice rising up a notch or two. I sit up again, running my hands through my hair as if it’ll help relieve any of the stress infesting my head right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I don’t want to die Marco. It’s just–“ I don’t get to finish my sentence because he cuts me off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Jean it’s a simple choice. Either you die or you live. And you’re choosing to die without even putting up a fight?” Marco exclaims, hands gesturing wildly with his rushed words. “I don’t know what your life is like, and I can’t pretend to understand anything about you. But I know you enough to know that you need to live. You’re too much of a fighter to give up now.” He finishes, huffing furiously. He wasn’t quite yelling at me, but he is extremely upset. I feel like any second the tears he’s been hiding since he got here will make a reappearance. In fact, I can already feel some of my own welling up painfully in my throat. I keep them at bay so that I can speak._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Maybe I’m tired of fighting.” I whisper, sounding much more dismal than I intended. Marco immediately shakes his head and walks over to the side of my bed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“But you have to keep fighting anyway, for the people that love you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Nobody loves me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Jean, I’m sure–“ I interrupt him this time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No. Literally nobody needs me around anymore. My dad is long dead. My mom is institutionalized now because I couldn’t keep her from trying to off herself. My friends don’t give a shit about me anymore, and my extended family are all three thousand miles away on the west coast. So don’t fucking tell me who loves me, because absolutely nobody does. All right?” I snap at him, not concerned at this point with being polite. Not that I’ve ever cared about that, but I care even less right now. Marco reacts as I expected, with shocked silence. His thin, pale lips are parted slightly, and I finally see those tears coming. He doesn’t let them fall, but I doubt he can even see me now through the watery blur._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Don’t…” He starts, before shutting his mouth and swallowing. I cross my arms, waiting for him to figure out his words. The problem with him is that he tends to think through what he’s about to say before he says it, which is why he keeps taking so frustratingly long to respond. I on the other hand say whatever my mouth feels like saying. Half the time I wonder if my brain even has anything to do with it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Don’t you love yourself?” Marco finally asks. I hesitate, for once letting myself think something through. Do I really love myself? There are a million things I wish I could change about myself, the main one being my sexuality. I also wish I cared about other people more and that I wasn’t such a dick most of the time. Although I am honest, and hardworking, and I do truly care about my friends and family even when the gesture isn’t returned. This is a hard question…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I don’t know.” I answer, looking him in the eye. He holds my gaze while placing a hand on mine, which is resting on the bed next to my leg. A shiver runs up my arm and down my spine from his touch, and I try not to let it distract me from our conversation. Marco’s face is completely sincere when he replies to my answer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Give me a chance...to convince you that your life is worth living, and that you’re worth loving. Please…just start the chemo. I won’t let you down.” Marco begs. I stare at him silently, wincing internally as one tear finally squeezes its way out of the inner corner of his right eye and weaves lazily down his face, freckle by freckle. His swimmy brown eyes scream truthfulness, and I know that he can be trusted. He comes off as a man of his word._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________So if he does pull through and he helps me through all of this, what then? What do I live for? And who will love me? I guess I’ll just have to take a risk on him, a risk on life. When I finally speak, my voice comes out in a thin and unsure whisper, but at least I’m still saying it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“All right…but please don’t let me down.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone figure out the pattern in the chapter titles yet? If not, keep trying! And don't forget to thank Marco for convincing our poor Jean to try to get better :)


	6. The Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a speedy update for you guys! I'd say that I'm going to try doing this more often, but let's be honest I'm probably going to only get busier. But I promise I won't forget about this and I'll keep updating whenever I can. 
> 
> In other news, Eren has a big mouth and Marco is really, reeeeeally awkward, and Jean is a nun :p

MARCO’S POV:

It’s been about two weeks since Jean started his chemotherapy, and as promised I’ve been with him every step of the way. Of course I can’t be at the hospital during school hours, but he asked to have his treatment given in the late afternoon so that I can be there. I managed to convince my father that I’ve joined an extracurricular activity after school in order to boost my transcript for college, when in reality I’m really going to the hospital every day after school to be with Jean. 

It’s been alarming to see how quickly he’s deteriorated from the treatment. He’s so tired most of the time, although he still perks up a little when I’m around. More often than not he’s asleep by the time I leave, which is a strange combination of both precious and disquieting.

Jean has also been going through other side effects of the treatment, such as hair loss. In fact, when I was there with him yesterday he kept a blanket over his head the entire time, his face peeking out to talk to me. No matter how much I pestered him, he refused to remove it. He joked, saying that he looked even older than he did when he had the walker at the picnic, but I could tell that he was actually really self-conscious. 

Even though he likes to pretend that nothing bothers him, I can see right through all that. His body is slowly shutting down on him, and this isn’t the first time he’s had to do this. Sometimes, when he yells at me to leave the room when he feels like he might throw up or when he rejects my help when he staggers over to use the bathroom, I almost start to doubt myself. Did I make the right decision in convincing him to go through it again? It hurts so much to see him like this; I can’t imagine what it must feel like to actually be the one experiencing the pain itself.

Those are the thoughts running through my head all throughout history, and by the time class ends I’ve succeeded in making myself quite miserable. The only thing keeping my mood form hitting rock bottom is the dark gray beanie tucked snuggly into the front pocket of my backpack. It’s been my favorite hat for a while and I plan on giving it Jean today when I visit, so he doesn’t have to wear a blanket all the time and I don’t have to feel like I’m talking to a nun. Every time I’ve thought about it today at school I’ve smiled, imagining his face brightening up when I hand it to him. I really hope he likes it.

I saunter into study hall, thanking God that it’s the last period of the day and I don’t have to do anything during it. When I slump down next to Reiner, he shoots me a quick smile of greeting and goes back to talking to Bertholdt. I’ve long since made up with my whole group of friends after flipping out on them the other week about Jean. I can’t hold a grudge very long, and they were very understanding with me. I guess they’re nicer than they seemed at the time.

“Hey guys,” Eren says lazily as he walks into the classroom, Armin and Mikasa trailing behind him silently like usual. I give them a small wave and then lean back, closing my eyes and trying to relax for a moment or two before Connie and Sasha get here, the rowdy couple they are.

“Are you alright Marco?” Armin asks, polite as always. I crack open one eye to view his concerned face across the table and then nod.

“Yeah, just a little stressed is all. Thank you for asking.” I reply, hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation. Usually I love talking, but right now I just wish I could tune everyone out until I’m able to leave and go to the hospital to be with Jean. That’s all I want to do lately. 

“What’s got you so stressed?” Armin continues. I open my eyes and sit up, realizing with a sigh that he’s far too nice to just let it go at that. I lean forward so that we can talk between just the two of us. He leans across the table as well, his intelligent eyes sharp with worry.

“All right. Well I don’t know if he wants me telling everyone, which is why I haven’t said anything to you guys yet. But Jean is back on chemo. And I’ve been going to the hospital every day after school for the past two weeks to be there with him when he gets the treatment.” I explain to him. Armin’s eyes widen a bit in surprise but he then nods in understanding.

“I wish he would have told us so we could be there for him as well…But I understand why he hasn’t. It’s our own faults.” He muses out loud, a twinge of regret in his voice. Then he gives me a small grin. “So are you guys good friends now?” He asks. 

“Yeah, we’re great friends.” I admit, smiling back at him. 

“Has he told you about…you know, his mom?”

“He mentioned it briefly in an argument but he hasn’t told me any details.” I respond, earning a small laugh from Armin.

“That’s Jean for you, always starting arguments. But he’ll tell you more about her when the time comes. Really he’s only told Connie, Reiner, and me anything more than the basics of it.” He comments. Eren, who I’m assuming just started eavesdropping, butts in. 

“Yeah and none of them will tell me!” Eren comments with a frown.

“If Jean didn’t want to tell you then it’s not my place to do so.” Armin answers him sternly. Eren sighs in exasperation and Mikasa steps forward from her spot leaning against the bookshelf.

“Yeah, he hates you Eren.” She pipes up, earning an even bigger sigh from him.

“It’s a love-hate relationship guys.” Eren insists. Reiner leans his forearm on the table and lets out a boisterous laugh.

“You hate Jean, and Jean hates you. I fail to see the love between you two.” He points out, raising an eyebrow. 

“Whatever, you guys may know what happened with his mom but I was the only one who found out he’s gay.” Eren argues, smirking victoriously at Reiner. I snap my head up in surprise, having previously been looking at the table and trying not to laugh at Eren’s antics. Whoa, stop everything…Did he just say that Jean is _gay _?__

“EREN!” Sasha scolds angrily, entering the room with Connie just in time to hear Eren’s last comment. Connie, who is usually so carefree and happy, looks remarkably intimidating for his size with the glare he’s currently wearing.

“Dude, seriously?”

“Everyone already knows it.” Eren replies defensively. Before Connie can start yelling, Annie who I didn’t even realize was here yet speaks up from behind Bertholdt.

“Only because you read his diary last year and then told all of us.” She says, her voice as monotone as always. 

“Well Marco would have found out eventually. It’s no big deal.” Eren says to everyone.

“I’m pretty sure if he managed to hide it from us all throughout middle and high school without any of us even suspecting, Marco would not have found out eventually.” Ymir’s voice sails out an unknown location. I lean back and look down to see Krista and Ymir perched next to each other on the floor at the end of the table, leaning against the bottom of the counters lining the back of the classroom.

“My bad.” Eren says, raising his hands defensively. At that, arguments break out among the entire group. Insults go flying across the table while hands are slammed down onto it. Connie and Eren end up practically screaming at each other. Jean did mention to me one day that he and Eren used to argue and fight all the time when he was in school, despite being in the same group of friends. I guess now that Jean’s away Eren has nobody to butt heads with to get his anger out.

“I’m sorry about Eren, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” Mikasa says quietly, walking over and sitting to my right. I have to listen closely to hear her over the commotion of the group. It’s as if she’s his mother the way she apologizes for him.

“It’s okay.” I answer, my voice unable to go above a whisper for some reason. Can she even hear me with all the background noise? I don’t understand why this new information is affecting me so much. I don’t have any problems whatsoever with homosexuality, and I don’t mind the fact that Jean is gay at all. My own brother is gay for goodness sakes. And I’m not worried about being close friends with a guy who likes men. So why are my lungs working twice as hard as they need to, and why is my body so tense?

“Jean doesn’t know any of us know, so please don’t tell him we told you. It’d upset him.” She expresses softly, her concern for his well being coming as a surprise to me. Her care for others is unexpected due to her usual tough and aloof exterior. I nod silently, unable to wipe the bewildered expression off my face.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it? None of us care at all. Eren may joke sometimes, but he’s harmless.” She adds, still expressionless. I shake my head vigorously in answer, realizing that my stupid expression probably made her think I’m some type of homophobe.

“No, no! I don’t mind at all. I don’t care about stuff like that.” I assure her, my voice much too excited. After another moment of staring at me with eyes veiled in coldness, she nods and gets up to go back over and stand next to Eren. I sigh heavily, leaning back in chair. I feel like I’ve just been interrogated when in fact all she did was ask me a simple question. What the heck is my problem?

“All right, all right! Enough bickering in the back corner!” The teacher suddenly bellows from the front of the classroom. That finally gets everyone to settle down and take their seats. Connie still looks extremely unhappy while Sasha starts trying to cheer him up with various snacks from her backpack, and Eren looks quite satisfied. Reiner on the other hand just looks amused and Bertholdt is sweating bullets, no doubt because we got yelled at in front of the whole class. Annie, Ymir, and Mikasa are back to their motionless positions at the head of the able, none of them sitting in actual seats. Krista and Armin are wide eyed like always, watching the events of the group thoughtfully as they unfold around them. 

And then there’s me, sitting rigidly in my chair as I try to think over the information I’ve just been given. Jean is gay, and for some reason it has me frozen in…well I don’t know what. I have no idea what’s going on in my own head currently, and that’s worrisome. In order to calm myself down I think back again to the gray beanie in my bag that I’ll be giving him later. All I have to do is imagine his joyful and surprised expression and my mind immediately starts to ease.

“You still started it.” I hear Connie say, bringing me back to reality.

“It’s really not the end of the world. You never know, Marco could be into that and Jean could get a boyfriend for his birthday.” Eren says, laughing loudly at his own joke, Reiner chuckling along with him and nudging me with an elbow. I look at him in surprise as he wiggles an eyebrow at me. Then I look to Eren who is also giving me a shit-eating grin.

“They’re just making jokes,” Sasha assures me. “Bad ones.” She adds, glaring at the both of them before pulling out an already open candy bar from her hoodie pocket for herself. I force myself to ignore all that, setting it aside to analyze at another time. Instead I focus one minor detail that was mentioned.

“Wait, so is Jean’s birthday soon?” I ask, earning a few nods of confirmation.

“Yeah, he turns eighteen this Saturday. Why?” Connie answers, tilting his head slightly. At least he’s finally done bristling at Eren, although it was nice to see someone stand up for Jean besides me for once.

“Just wondering. I should do something for him. What are you guys doing?” I ask. Wrong question. Everyone looks down, shame evident on their faces. Well that answers my question. They haven’t planned to do a single thing for him. 

“Nothing I guess.” I mumble, slightly irritated again. Are they really sure they’re Jean’s friends? They act as if they care about him so much, enough to get into huge disputes with each other, but then won’t lift a finger for him.

“We didn’t want to do anything for him if he’s mad at us for not visiting. It’d ruin his birthday if he doesn’t want us there.” Krista says softly from her spot on the floor next to Ymir. I nod slowly, able to understand to some degree. Then an idea pops into my head, a grand idea.

“Guys, what if we all throw a party for him? Right there in his hospital room!” I exclaim, smiling widely. Some of them perk up in agreement while others look unsure.

“Won’t he be mad about us being there? You know, after everything…” Connie asks, remorse plain as day on his face.

“No, he won’t be like that.” I assure him. In reality, I _really hope _he won’t be like that. “He just misses you guys, that’s all.” I add, easing Connie’s tense expression a little bit.__

Soon, all of them are discussing plans, and Armin even has a piece of paper out to start a list of materials for the party. Every single one of them is smiling by the end of the class period, even Annie and Mikasa who are notorious for their lack of expression. While they all excite themselves over the idea, I sit back and watch things fall into place. 

Even if they’ve made mistakes in the past, it’s clear that they truly do care for Jean. They just aren’t great at showing it sometimes. If Jean wants proof that people care about him, this is it right here. This will be a perfect way to show him that there’ll be a great life waiting for him on the other side of this battle, and that we’re all rooting for him to win.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After the last class ended I left school and headed right to the hospital. And now I’m here and headed down the halls of the children’s cancer ward towards Jean’s room, my mind abuzz with the events of study hall today. One certain tidbit of new information about him is what’s on the forefront of my mind, and one could only guess what that is…

I’m almost to his room, but before I can turn the corner to the hallway it’s in I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I flinch and turn around to find the nurse that I talked to the first time I visited Jean. Over the last few weeks I’ve come to know that her name is Francesca and that she only wears pink scrubs. 

“Hey! Here for Jean’s therapy again?” She asks cheerfully. I nod with a smile, shifting my backpack on my shoulders. “Many don’t like being alone during it. A lot of people prefer to have someone there for support. Last round his friends usually came when they could, but they sort of moved on after a while.” She goes on to inform me. 

“Yeah, I know. But speaking of Jean’s friends, would it be okay if I had them all here on Saturday? We kind of want to throw him a birthday party in his room.” I ask, causing her to tilt her head in thought.

“Hmm…I don’t think it’d be a problem. But there is one condition.” She says, her voice suddenly becoming stern.

“What is it?”

“Save a piece of cake for me.” She replies with a wink.

“Of course!” I say with a chuckle. She clasps her hands together excitedly and turns to go back to her work.

“Sounds great then! I’ve got to get back to work though so I’ll probably see you on your way out.” She calls as she retreats down the hallway. I offer a small wave and spin around to continue to Jean’s room.

“Oh! And I know I say this pretty much every time I see you, but thank you so much. It’s great to see things finally turning around for him. He really had it rough until you came along.” I hear her add from the end of the hallway. I crane my neck around the corner to smile and thank her. Then I make a beeline for Jean’s room.

When I enter the doorway, he’s already sitting up in bed, that darn sheet over his head again, as if he’s trying to impersonate a nun. That odd feeling settles over me, the one that I’ve unfortunately become very familiar with lately, but I force it down like a bad tasting medicine. Besides that concerning sensation that I’ve yet to identify, I’m overjoyed at being able to see him again. Lately it seems I spend every school day just waiting until I can go see his exhausted and drained, yet appreciative face. Upon my entrance he turns to look at me, holding the fabric tight below his chin.

“Hey!” He greets me, wearing a marvelous smile. Today he seems a little more upbeat than usual, which is a good thing. I scoff at his appearance, lugging the chair over to my usual position to his left.

“How are you, Sister Jeanie?” I say with a smirk. He chuckles, his shoulders rising slightly as he shrugs at me.

“Hey, I’d rather look like a nun than Old Man Kirstein.” He retorts.

“Ooh, I like that one. Well, Old Man Kirstein. I figured since you won’t listen to me no matter how many times I tell you that you’ll look fine without that dumb blanket, I should at least give you something better to cover your head with.” I say, reaching into the front pocket of my backpack where the gray beanie is stowed away. When I pull it out and hand it to him, he looks at it and then beams up at me just like I imagined he would, except better. I cherish his astonished and delighted expression, making sure to file it into my brain in a way that I won’t ever forget it. I’m pretty sure a face like that could instantly pick me up from any dastardly mood life may put me in.

“Awe, dude you’re the best!” He exclaims, taking it gingerly from my hand, our fingers brushing for a fraction of a second. A sizzle makes it way up my arm, but I act like nothing happened. Because in reality, nothing did happen, right? So our fingers touched, big deal. I’m probably just overthinking everything because I know he’s gay now. I hope that doesn’t make me a jerk…

“Put it on. It should fit because I’ve got a pretty big head.” I suggest with a nervous laugh.

“This is yours?”

“Yeah, I pretty much wore it every day last school year.” I admit, eliciting a small chuckle from him as he turns the hat over and over in his hand. Then he waves his at me, a command for me to look away. I’m assuming he doesn’t want me to see his hair as he makes the transition from blanket to beanie. 

“I reeeeeally don’t care dude.” I say, covering my eyes nonetheless. I hear Jean sigh along with the rustle of the blanket falling to the surface of the bed.

“Well I do. So no peeking, or else.”

“Or else what?” I ask, forming a slight crack between my fingers. Before I can even get a glimpse of him, he’s placed his own hand over mine. My breath hitches suddenly at the feeling of his palm over my fingers, his thumb resting on my forehead. Jeez, I really need to get over myself. So what if he’s gay? He’s my best friend and I already know I don’t have a problem with it. This shouldn’t be so difficult for me.

“We’ve been through this before. I’ll cry and remind you that I have cancer, and then you’ll feel like shit.” He replies, the smirk he’s wearing clearly audible in his voice. I say nothing, opting to stick my tongue out at him instead. He snickers, and it twists my stomach in a way I cannot describe as anything but delightful. It takes him a bit longer to get the beanie on with just one hand, especially one tethered to IVs, but he eventually manages by himself despite my multiples offers to help.

“How do I look?” He finally asks, removing his hand from mine. I open my eyes, the back of my right hand feeling exposed now without Jean’s warm skin resting on it. He’s looking up at me, that darn smirk of his still present on his face. I can’t even lie, he looks really, really adorable in my hat. It’s the kind of beanie that slouches in the back, giving him the same sort of skater look that I was striving for when I first got it (you know, besides the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a hospital gown with it). And of course, I say just about the worst thing that could possibly come out of my mouth. But I can’t help it. How can I not get nervous and blundering when he’s staring me down with those intense yet playful, light brown eyes?

“Cute!– I mean…”

Oh man, I am such a weirdo! I mean I guess he won’t think it’s weird since he’s gay, so he’s probably used to stuff like that. But then he’s going to think I’m gay too. And I’m not…I’m _really _not. I try to rectify the situation with some semblance of tactfulness, but I fail miserably.__

“Not cute. That’s not– I meant cool, like bro cool…You know– ” I give up, feeling my face burn hotter and brighter than ever before. Jean just stares at me, his smirk fading. The way he looks at me is almost too much to bear, and I end up averting my eyes in the end. He looks as if he’s reading my mind, the way he looks into my eyes like that. 

Then he suddenly bursts out laughing. Great, he was just making me sweat it out again, just like every other time I say or do something awkward. That’s Jean though, always messing with me. 

“I am pretty cute aren’t I,” He exclaims, batting his eyelashes at me. I roll my eyes whilst exhaling the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “But seriously, come here man. I really appreciate it.” He says, extending his arms out to me. It takes a full second for me to register that he’s offering me a hug and expecting one in return. If I don’t stop overthinking things like this, I feel like I’m going to explode. Just _hug _him Marco.__

I lean over the bed and he quickly pulls me into his grasp, holding me tight against him. His arms are slung around my neck and shoulders and I wrap mine around his back. We stay like that for a few more seconds than what would probably be considered normal for a guy hug. Those few extra seconds spent in our embrace are what make my heart race unnecessarily, and his small hum of satisfaction is what makes my body stiffen and freeze up.

“You okay?” He asks, seeing right through me as I try to pretend that he’s not affecting me in this odd way. I release myself from him, nodding and scratching the back of my head awkwardly. I’m nervous, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I can’t shake it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad you like it.” I say with a slightly forced grin. He tilts his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re acting weird.” He points out plainly, which only makes me feel a hundred times more nervous than I already was. How am I supposed to answer that? _Uh yeah, see I found out you’re gay today so now I’m kind of freaking out about these weird feelings you’ve been giving me recently _. Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over well.__

Luckily, before I can say something that would surely make matters worse, the door to the room opens and in waltzes the doctor. I glance at the clock on the wall and see that it’s now three-thirty, chemotherapy time for Jean. Thank God.

“Ready for your treatment buddy?” He asks cheerfully, earning an eye roll from Jean who responds unenthusiastically like usual.

“Yeah whatever. Just get it over with.”

I watch as the older gentleman gets everything set up, hanging bags and such. Then he has Jean pull down the neck of his gown to expose the raised bump under his skin where his port lies, just below his right clavicle. He always gets self-conscious when I see it, but I don’t mind it at all. It’s helping him get better, so I like it.

By now I’ve moved to the right side of the bed, giving the doctor room to work. The last few days we’ve fallen into a certain rhythm for his treatment. He slides over slightly to make room for me as I hop up onto his bed, sitting next to him with my legs outstretched in front of me. I don’t remember exactly when it started, but one day when he was feeling especially bad, he asked me to sit with him. So now every time we just sit together, shoulder to shoulder, and distract ourselves from the horrifying truth of what’s actually going into his body.

He doesn’t care much about the details of his medications, but I’ve done some research and it’s pretty frightening. Maybe it’s because I understand most of the science of it, but knowing how much it’s really killing his body makes seeing him go through this harder than I originally thought. 

While the doctor is doing his final checks, Jean turns his head and shoots me a look that says he’s not done with me yet. Once the treatment begins and the doctor leaves the room, he clears his throat and I dread whatever he’s going to ask me.

“So like I was saying, you’re acting weird today.” He jumps right into it. Jean sure does like to get right to the point, unfortunately for me.

“I…didn’t know I was acting weird.” I say unconvincingly. He lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you did. But if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine, as long as I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. You’re perfect!...I mean, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just had a weird day is all.” I stutter over my words painfully. _It’s not anything he's done. It’s just everything about him _.__

“All right, just making sure. I know sometimes I can be a real asshole, but it usually doesn’t seem to bother you.” Jean answers, his words beginning to come out a tad slower than before. I can tell the treatment is already starting to make him feel a bit weak. 

“You don’t bother me at all, and you’re not an asshole I promise.” I assure him. At that he leans his head on my shoulder, and it takes all of my effort not to jump out of my skin at the sudden contact. 

“Can you do me a favor Marco?” He asks, his voice very quiet and serious. I lean my head down closer to his to hear him properly.

“Of course.” I reply tenderly. He is silent for a beat, simply just taking slow deep breathes like the doctor always tells him to. Then he twists his head to look up at me.

“Can you say asshole again?” He asks, a weak smile on his lips. I stare at him incredulously for a few moments, and then I roll my eyes. “Well you never curse! That was literally the first time I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

“I take it back. You’re a _bit _of an asshole.” I answer, causing him to laugh heartily. I love making Jean laugh, because I can’t imagine how hard it must be to find happiness in a situation like his. So if I can bring it to him, I’ll gladly do whatever it takes.__

“Thanks. It sounds cute when you do it.” Jean says happily.

“It’s cute when I curse?”

“The cutest.” He confirms, not a hint of awkwardness in his voice. At that I begin to think that I’ve definitely been overthinking things way too much. Jean doesn’t make things uncomfortable at all when he says stuff like that, yet I freaked out before when I called him cute. I glance over at his languid yet content face and decide that it doesn’t matter if he’s gay or if I say things the wrong way. Jean is Jean and I’m me. We’re pretty much best friends by now and he’s never seriously judged me for anything I’ve said or done around him. Despite his attitude, he’s actually one of the most accepting people I know. 

I shouldn’t ruin my time with him by making myself uncomfortable for no good reason. From now on, I won’t worry about what I say or how I say it. Good friends don’t have to censor themselves with one another. Knowing Jean, he’ll be sure to make it very clear if I ever say anything he doesn’t appreciate. From now on, I’m going to just be myself around him, like I should have been doing in the first place.

“Well I’ll try to curse more often for you then.” I say with a grin. 

“Good, because if you don’t I’ll just have to piss you off until you do.” He responds, smirking at me.

“Fuck you.” I answer, slapping his arm in the gentlest way possible. Jean laughs out loud at that, and it sounds absolutely lovely…and that’s probably not a good thing for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm…looks like some flirting is beginning to arise between our two favorite guys. Let's hope Marco doesn't mess it up by being super ridiculously awkward! New chapter we'll find Jean getting MORE big news (I know, pretty much every Jean chapter has big news in it lately). But this news isn't the good kind…Duh, duh, DAAAAA!
> 
> Also, congrats to the people who figured out that all the chapter titles are Linkin Park songs. What can I say, I've been obsessed with them since I was a kid lol. Thanks for reading!


	7. One Step Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 DAYS OF UPDATES IN A ROW! You guys are lucky I love you! :p But no really, I'm so happy about the all support and compliments I've been receiving from all of you. You make me so happy and you make me want to quit my job and just write for you guys all day! (But really, if writing JeanMarco fanfics could pay the bills I'd be all over that.) But thank you so much for being such great supporters and I love you all!!! <3
> 
> In this chapter we see Jean's past make a shattering reappearance, and Marco is there (like always) to pick up the pieces.

JEAN’S POV:

I’ve been lying motionless in my bed for the last few hours and only one thought has been going through my mind. _I feel like shit _. And that’s a broad understatement. I have my off days, but this is just a little bit worse than usual in its little ways. For example, this morning I accidentally knocked down the stupid basin that they give me to throw up in and ended up spilling a generous helping of vomit all over the floor. And of course, while maintenance was cleaning it up, the combined, disgusting-ass smell of the harsh cleaning products and the stench of my own mess made me upchuck again, that time over the far side of the bed on the floor by the window.__

The bewildered, overwhelmed face of the old, white haired janitor as he simply looked up at me and sighed was enough to almost make me cry.

Once he had finally cleaned up everything and bid me goodbye, I couldn’t even eat the lunch that Franny brought me soon after. The lingering smell, which was almost nonexistent, still weighed heavily on my stomach. But the worst part of the day was the call I got around noon. I was lying in bed concentrating on maintaining control of my stomach when my phone rang loudly in the lonely room.

“Hello?” I greeted after answering the unknown number calling my cell phone.

__“Hi, this is Janet calling from Trost State Psychiatric Hospital. I’m calling for Jean Kirstein?”_ _

__“Speaking.” I said, my voice gruff as I realized she’s calling from the hospital where my mom is._ _

__“Good afternoon Jean. I hope all is well with you. I’m calling because Eleanor has you listed as her next of kin.” Janet said in an overly cheerful voice, one that made me roll my eyes._ _

__“Yeah, I’m her son. What’s this about?” I asked quickly, my hands shaking slightly at the thought of something going wrong there for my mom. My nausea grew as she began explaining._ _

__“Well there was a small incident involving your mother this morning, but we got everything under control very quickly. We just like to call families to let them know when things like this happen because we like to be as transparent as possible here at Trost Psych–“ I cut her off._ _

__“What incident? Things like what? What are you being transparent about?” I rattled off questions hastily, my breath speeding up. I just kept wondering why she was beating around the bush, why she wasn’t telling me what was going on._ _

__“Eleanor…attempted suicide early this morning. But everything is under control now and she did not even come close to succeeding.” She said. I swear my heart stopped at her words. Is my own mother really that determined to die?_ _

__“W-what…shit. How?” I breathed, fighting back tears that were welling up faster than I could blink them away._ _

__“She tried to ingest cleaning products, but our nurses caught her before she could get too much down. And we’ve gotten the amount she did drink out of her system already.”_ _

__“She had to get her stomach pumped?” I ignored the pathetic break in my voice._ _

__“Yes, but it was an extremely mild case. And we have her closely watched now to prevent incidents like this from happening again.” She assured me, and I could hear the forced smile in her voice as she tried to somehow be calming while delivering news like this._ _

__“A mild case? She drank cleaning products. Why the fuck wasn’t she being closely watched in the first place? The whole reason she’s in there is because she attempted suicide! What made you think she wouldn’t try again?” I growled angrily, channeling my fear into fury._ _

__“We like to give our patients limited amounts of freedom if they’ve been behaving well. We don’t want them to feel trapped. She gave us no reason to believe she would do something like this…” She tried to cover her ass._ _

__“I’d rather her be alive and feel trapped than lose my fucking mom! Tell your asshole employees to maybe take a glance at the patients once in a while to make sure they’re not guzzling bleach!” I shouted into the phone._ _

__“It wasn’t bleach, it–“_ _

__“I don’t give a shit what it was! Just…tell your people to do their damn jobs. Is there any other news you have for me? Anything else exciting happen while she wasn’t being supervised?” My voice was dripping in sarcasm, and I couldn’t care less about how rude I was being. It was my mom we were talking about…_ _

__“No, there haven’t been any other incidents. And I can assure you there won’t be any more. I do have a quick question for you though.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“It says here that you’ll be turning eighteen in two days. Once you’re an adult, you can come visit her without a guardian. Would you like to set up a visit?” She asked. My mind went in circles as all the connotations that come along with my mother flashed through my head. My mother, despite the fact that she’s still my mother, is nothing like the woman I used to know. And it became obvious during the call that she’s drifting even farther away from me, as if she’s purposely giving up on not just herself, but me as well._ _

__“I don’t know…I’ll call if I want to set one up.” I answered after a few moments, trying to sound less uncertain than I felt. I could swear I heard a faint hum of disappointment from Janet, but fuck her._ _

__“All right, well we hope to hear from you soon then. Have a great day.”_ _

__“Bye.” I grumbled abruptly before hanging up. And that was that._ _

__Now, a few hours later, I’m sitting next to Marco on my bed, trying to fight back tears as I remember the morning. I’ve barely said a word to him, and he’s asked if I’m okay about fifty times by now and each time I’ve told him yes. So at this point we’re just sitting silently, Marco looking perfectly content to just relax without talking. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading him, not that it was ever hard in the first place. Like I thought the first day I met him, the guy is basically an open book. So when I accidently let an overwhelmed sigh escape me, I know exactly what the look he gives me means. He doesn’t want to push me into telling him what’s wrong but he desperately wants to fix whatever it is. Unfortunately it’s not something he can fix…_ _

__“Sorry, I’m being shitty company today.” I say, averting my eyes to the sheets. He shrugs and gives me an understanding smile when he answers._ _

__“You don’t have to be in a good mood every time I visit you know. It’s okay.”_ _

__“I know.” I murmur, leaning into his shoulder slightly. He pats my hand caringly, and usually his touch would make me feel better. But today I’m just way too down._ _

__“I bet if you told me what’s wrong I could try to make you feel better.” He adds quietly, eyeing me cautiously. I chuckle bitterly and sit up straighter._ _

__“All right. Well if you really want to know, my mom is in a mental institution and they called me earlier today to tell me that she tried to kill herself again this morning by drinking cleaning products.” I say, closing my eyes and letting the words flow out slowly like a viscous poison. Marco is silent for a few moments, his breathing steady compared to me erratic, shallow attempts for air._ _

__“Is she okay?” He finally asks._ _

__“She’s not going to die if that’s what you’re asking. They pumped her stomach. But no, she’s not okay. She’s…” I trail off before my voice can break. I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to keep any tears from escaping. And despite my efforts to hide it, Marco seems to know I’m seconds away from crying. He turns to me and pulls me into his arms abruptly yet gently, letting my face rest against his chest. And once again, the thrill I would usually get from this kind of contact with him doesn’t come. I’m just too fucking depressed right now. I don’t want to feel anything right now. I don't want…_ _

__“I don’t want to do this anymore.” I whisper hoarsely into his pale, salmon colored t-shirt._ _

__“Do what?” He asks calmly, pulling me tighter to him ever so slightly._ _

__“Have cancer. I’m so tired of living like this…and I don’t want to do the treatment anymore.” I admit, finally letting myself sob into his chest. Marco’s chest rises as he inhales deeply, setting a hand on my head. I can feel his warmth faintly through the fabric of the hat I’ve yet to take off since he gave it to me the other day. When he speaks his voice is shaky but also broad with resolve._ _

__“Don’t say that Jean. Just because she doesn’t have the strength to want to live, doesn’t mean you don’t.”_ _

__“As soon as I was diagnosed she acted as if she’d already lost me. She’s never once thought that I’ll get better. How am I supposed to hope for myself when nobody, not even my mom does?” I ask bitterly. Marco leans his head down so that his chin rests lightly on my forehead. When he speaks I can feel his soft breath feather over my face. I let my eyes fall closed at the sensation, trying to focus on his words._ _

__“I think you’ll get better…And I hope for you more than anything else in the world. All I want is for you to heal.” He assures me, his voice sure. I sniff quietly in response, uncertain of what to say to that._ _

__When did Marco and I become so close? I met him only a little under a month ago, yet he’s already become the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s the only person around for me now, which is frightening because of the feelings I have for him. If he found out I’m gay– if he found out I like him the way I do, I’d be left with nobody. I’d be back where I started before I met him. Yet I’ve never had so much trouble before holding back my emotions. Sometimes it’s so hard not to reach out and run my fingers through his silky looking, raven hair, or trace his freckles with my gaze, or stare at his wonderful, round, bright eyes for too long. He’s the only thing that brings goodness into my life right now, and I don’t want to mess that up. My feelings for him are even harder to swallow than the giant horse pills I’m forced to take each morning here. But he’s just so…_ _

__“Please don’t give up on yourself. I’d do anything to keep you fighting. If you won’t do it for yourself, at least do it for me…I need you.” Marco adds, whispering the last three words as if he’s telling a secret. A thousand different emotions are running through my head currently and I’m having a hard time picking through them. I’m heartbroken that my own mother doesn’t find me worth living for. I’m exhausted because this treatment is torture and the endless pain and discomfort have taken their toll on me. But mostly I’m terrified because despite my resolve to die only minutes ago, Marco’s gentle, confiding voice already has me mourning for the life we could have had if only I wasn’t sick._ _

__If I were normal, he and I would have met at school. We could have become friends like we are now, except without the constant threat of death hanging over me. And then one day I’d tell him how I felt and he’d maybe admit to his own feelings. Then we could be together and have an entire lifetime to look forward to with each other. But when I’m like this my fantasies will never be realized._ _

__At least one thing is true– he needs me._ _

__“Yeah…I need you too.” I breathe against his chest, my tears finally starting to subside slightly. He hums softly in agreement and begins to run his hand slowly up and down my back. I lean tiredly into him and welcome the chills that his touch sends through my body. For now I’ll have to settle for moments like this, moments when we both allow ourselves to let our guard down and just be shameless. I’m not embarrassed that he saw me cry, and he’s not embarrassed that he’s holding me like this. Things are easier like this, without reservations. Marco, who usually thinks through everything way too much, is simply being himself. And I, for once not hiding behind my jokes, am being honest in a way that is purer than my usual, harsh honesty. We’re simply being._ _

__“That feels good.” I whisper suddenly, not even caring if it comes off strange to him. It doesn’t, because he doesn’t even pause for a moment as he continues rubbing my back in his delicate way._ _

__“I’m glad.” He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. When we’re like this I can almost pretend that…that we’re…_ _

_Dammit _! Out of nowhere, a quickly blooming nausea causes me to clench my abdomen. It claws its way up my throat despite my desperate attempts to force it down.__

____“Shit. Shit shit shit.” I mutter, pushing myself abruptly off of Marco._ _ _ _

____“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asks, his eyes wide with concern. Unable to respond, I shake my head and turn away from him, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. On the table to the left of my bed rests the basin that gave me so much trouble this morning. I snatch it up and place it shakily in my lap, leaning over in preparation for what’s already made it to the top of my throat. And then I vomit violently into it, my body wrenching forward painfully as I give in and let my insides escape me. This is the third time today that I’ve thrown up. I think that may be a new record, as depressing as that is. How is there even anything left for me to dispel at this point?_ _ _ _

____After the flow subsides I spit into the container a few times, cursing the rotten taste that now has coated my tongue. Then I notice that Marco’s hand is on my upper back, rubbing softly between my shoulder blades. So much for being shameless. I’ve never thrown up so suddenly right in front of him like that. I’ve always felt it coming beforehand and either made his leave the room or look away. But now he’s seen me up close…God, I’m so fucking disgusting._ _ _ _

____“Sorry.” I choke out, my eyes already blurry again with tears. Marco must notice the way my voice breaks, because he gets up and comes around the bed, taking the half full basin gingerly out of my hands._ _ _ _

____“Hey, don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” He says in that ever-calm voice of his before turning to go empty the basin in the small bathroom by my door._ _ _ _

____“You don’t have to do that.” I whisper, unable to force myself to look up at him. He chuckles lightheartedly before I hear his voice echo from the smaller room._ _ _ _

____“Don’t sweat it. Before you told me that the smell made you get sick again this morning, and I doubt you want to go through this for a fourth time today. Besides, I have to get used to stuff like this anyway if I’m going to be a doctor.”_ _ _ _

____After I hear the sink run for a few moments, Marco exits the bathroom with a clean basin in hand. God, I’m so mortified right now I can’t even think. He sets it back on the table and then hops up onto my bed, both of us now sitting on the left side with our legs hanging over the side. All I can do is stare at the floor, fighting the urge to cry. Marco leans against me, nudging his shoulder on mine._ _ _ _

____“Hey, it’s not a big deal I promise. I don’t mind stuff like this at all. I mean I hate that you’re not feeling well but I don’t care about you know, that.” He says, nodding towards that fucking basin. I’m tired of looking at the damn thing. I close my eyes, feeling a few tears escape between my lids again._ _ _ _

____“I know…I’m just embarrassed.” I admit, sighing shakily. He slides an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him much like he did before._ _ _ _

____“You’ve got no reason to be embarrassed. You’re my best friend. I’m not going to judge you.” He assures me._ _ _ _

_Yeah, but you’re my best friend who I have romantic feelings for _…__

______“All right…can we talk about something else?” I ask desperately, just wanting to forget about the whole thing._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sure, of course. What do you want to talk about?” He answers. I ponder for a moment and then remember what he said a minute ago._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You said you’re going to become a doctor.” I state, finally looking over at him. The look that passes over his face isn’t what I expected. He looks almost disappointed in a way._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mm-hm. That’s why I started volunteering here originally.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What made you want to go into the medical field?” I ask, hoping to find an explanation to that expression he’s wearing. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, thinking through things like usual. I wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts according to his standards._ _ _ _ _ _

“I haven’t told many people this – just my brother actually. But I don’t actually want to be a doctor at all. In fact, I _really _don’t want to be a doctor.” He confides. I wipe my eyes, the tears drying up as curiosity distracts me.__

________“Wait, then why did you say you’re going to be a doctor?” I ask. He takes a deep breath and leans back, propping himself on his elbows behind him. Then he looks up at the ceiling for a few moments before speaking._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Uh, my dad’s a doctor and he wants me to be one too.” I watch his face as he says it and I can tell that there is a lot more pain in that sentence than he’s letting on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m guessing if it was as simple as telling him to suck it then you would have done that by now.” I reply. Marco nods slowly, letting his eyes fall closed. My eyes trail over his face time after time, and I can’t help but wonder what this freckled brunette really wants to do with his life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What _do _you want to be?” I ask. He turns and looks at me, a sheepish smile creeping onto his lips.__

__________“A musician.” He says. The way the words roll off his tongue sounds beautiful, and I can tell that he really means it. His smile says it all. This is what he wants to do more than anything, and it boosts my mood just to know that he has something to chase after._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What do you play?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Guitar. And I sing.” He says shyly, a small blush making its way across his cheeks. I reach over and punch him lightly in the arm, unable to contain my excitement.  
“Aw dude you are so screwed! Now I’m totally going to make you play a song and sing for me!” I exclaim. He laughs out loud, shaking his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Not a chance. I’ve never played for anyone.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Come on! How are you going to be a musician if you never play for anyone? I’m the perfect starting point because I’ll actually tell you the truth if you suck.” I half-joke, grinning madly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh thanks. Well now you’ve totally got me convinced.” Marco says, his voice drenched in sarcasm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What kind of music do you play?” I ask._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Mostly sixties stuff.” He responds. I chuckle lightly at that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’re a hippie. I don’t think I know a single song from the sixties.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well what do you listen to cool guy?” Marco asks, a terrible excuse for an impromptu nickname._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Clever one.” I laugh, causing him to roll his eyes in dismissal. “I like a lot of alternative rock. Like 30 Seconds to Mars, or Hollywood Undead.” I can almost see Marco’s eyes glazing over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’ve never heard of them?” I ask. He shakes his head and I sigh. “What about Three Days Grace? They’re pretty popular.” Still nothing. “Linkin Park?” Finally a spark of recognition flashes over his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah I’ve heard of them I think.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Good, because they’re my favorite band of all time.” I say with a large grin. Marco nods slowly, and it’s obvious he’s trying very hard to remember what they sound like._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’ll have to listen to them sometime soon.” He says. Then he sits back up and stretches his arms up in the air. “What about you?” He asks. I stare at him quizzically until he elaborates. “What do _you _want to do?”__

____________“Oh! Hmm, good question. I guess I never really had a plan to begin with. It doesn’t really matter anymore, but I just applied to all my colleges as undecided.” I admit, feeling pretty lame compared to Marco who has such a wonderful dream._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Well all right, what do you like to do in your free time?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I used to love running, like at least ten miles every morning. And I was really good at track. But that’s sort of out of the question now…I used to draw too, a long time ago. Once I started working evenings and got busy with school I never really found time for it.” I explain. Marco smiles at me as if he’s just gotten a grand idea. “What?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Nothing! I think that’s nice that you used to run and draw. You’ll have to show me some of your drawings when you get the chance.” He says. I scoff, looking at him incredulously._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Not a chance, Mister I-Never-Play-For-Anyone!” I mock him with a smirk, causing him to gape for a moment and then laugh merrily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“All right, all right. You got me there. I’ll see about playing for you sometime.” He gives in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Really?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Yeah, I could bring my guitar in sometime soon.” He says warmly, his cheeks rising and bringing his freckles a bit closer to his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I’d like that.” I reply, smiling back at him, wondering how he could possibly get any more perfect. He’s the only person in the world who could possibly make me feel the way I do right now despite the circumstances. I mean honestly, how did I get from pretty much wanting to die less than a half hour ago to butterflies in my stomach now at the thought of him singing and playing for me?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________It’s dangerous how much he affects me, it really is…But it’s hard to give a shit about danger when you're already dying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm just going to tell you guys right now upfront, there is no way I'll be updating again any sooner than Tuesday the 10th. And even then, I'm not sure if I'll have the next chapter finished by then. Unfortunately I have a lot going on in my life right now and I decided to pump these last three chapters out quickly as sort of an apology for the flakiness that is to come from me from now on. I'm really sorry guys! But I promise whenever I find time I'll work on this and you'll be seeing new chapters at least once a week (hopefully?) Thanks for understanding and I love you all <3
> 
> And also, next chapter = BIRTHDAY PARTY TIME FOR JEAN!  
> Also, Armin is going to be really adorable :) Even more so than usual.


	8. Wisdom, Justice, and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait guys! But thank you so much for expressing your excitement for the next chapter :D It's finally here and it's LONGER THAN USUAL. WHOOOOO!!!
> 
> Present time is awesome, Eren is a jerk but he means well, Armin is literally perfect, and Jean's eyes make Marco feel all warm and fuzzy inside :)

MARCO’S POV:

“Are you sure they have everything?” I ask again. Eren nods fiercely from the passenger seat of my car, rolling his eyes. I picked him up from his house a few minutes again and we’re on our way to the hospital now for Jean’s surprise birthday party.

“Jesus, that’s like the tenth time you’ve asked me since I got in. Yes, I watched Connie put everything in his car, balloons and all.” Eren insists, and then he lets out a laugh. “It’s actually a miracle he fit all those balloons in the back seat along with Reiner and Bert. You’ve seen how small his car is, right? It was hilarious.” He comments. I smile at the thought, imagining our two largest friends squeezing themselves into the borderline-microscopic back of Connie’s ancient, rusted, “white” car. Or the ‘shit-mobile’ as everyone seems to call it. 

“I can imagine. I just hope none of them fly off when they’re getting out.”

“I think he’ll survive if he has thirteen balloons instead of fifteen. It’s Jean we’re talking about, not a prince.” He says. I chuckle softly before answering.

“I just want everything to be perfect, you know?” I say. He shakes his head with a laugh.

“No, I don’t know…I guess Jean and I aren’t as close as you guys are. I love the guy, but I couldn’t spend as much time with him as you do. I guess we just clash in a way.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. Any specific reason why you two don’t get along?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. Eren leans his head back and sighs, letting his arm hang slightly out of the open car window next to him.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of a douchey thing to talk shit on someone with cancer. But he honestly just pisses me off. He’s so negative. I mean, I know he has reason to be that way after everything with his family and now with him being sick.” He pauses, training his alert, green eyes on me. “But he’s always acted like I’m personally trying to offend him when I’m optimistic about stuff.” He finishes. I think about that for a moment, trying to come up with the right words to explain what I think about that.

“I don’t know much about his past honestly. It’s not something he generally talks about. But I know it’s been hard. From what I can tell, it’s difficult for him to imagine things going well for him. Even when he wants good things to happen, he just assumes they won’t. It’s sort of a self defense mechanism.” I’m not entirely sure if I’m correct, but that’s what I’ve observed over the last few weeks of spending time with him every day.

“Yeah, but that’s no reason to get pissed off at me for not being that way too.” Eren grumbles, his tone ironically resembling Jeans in that moment. I smile softly at him, seeing for the first time that maybe he’s not so different from Jean. Eren has a much more boyish face and longer, sleeker hair, but he shares the same look that Jean always has. And they both speak first and think later. In fact, out of everyone I know, Eren is by far the most like Jean. 

“You ever think that maybe you make him jealous?” I suggest gently. 

“Why would I make him jealous?”

“You’re happy, and he’s not.” I explain simply. Eren stares at me for a few moments before answering. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and thoughtful, as if I’ve said something that is really making him rethink things.

“I never thought of that…Maybe he could be.” Eren responds after several more moments, his eyes lingering on me for another second more before he turns back to the open window.

“Yeah, maybe.” I say, focusing back on the road.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Squinting in the early afternoon sun, my eyes slowly begin to make out Connie’s car sputtering its way into the hospital parking lot, heat waves distorting the image. I flag them down, waving my hand in the air. Only when they park next to me and Eren and Connie cuts the engine do I realize how loud his car is when it’s running.

“Your car doesn’t sound too great. You might want to get that checked out.” I say to my short, bright-eyed friend as he opens his door.

“HA! Been down that road a thousand times with him. He won’t take it to the shop unless the engine itself falls out the bottom.” Sasha comments, leaning out of the passenger door. I almost burst out laughing when she gets up and a very unhappy looking Annie is exposed from underneath her. 

“Thanks for letting me sit on your lap! I’ll get you anything you want from the vending machine at lunch on Monday.” Sasha promises, holding out a hand and helping haul Annie up. 

“You let Sasha sit on your lap? I’m surprised she didn’t crush you!” Eren calls out from my car’s trunk as he pulls out a few decorations that I bought for the party. After a ‘hey!’ from Sasha, Annie brushes off her jeans and straightens her shirt and then speaks in her usual monotone voice.

“Better than being squeezed in between Sweaty and Sweatier back there with balloons hitting my face.” She justifies. As if on cue, Reiner bursts out from one of the back doors, catching flyaway balloons as he does so. I rush over and help him, managing to catch all of them between me, him, and Bertholdt, who quickly emerges to aid us. Thank goodness he’s so unnaturally tall.

After thanking them, I join Eren at my car to retrieve the rest of the things in the trunk. For a moment, I listen to him grumble about how it shouldn’t be this hot in the end of September. Then, tying carefully to my wrist the five balloons I captured, I lean in to grab the two presents I bought for Jean, some streamers along with other various decorations, and my guitar case. I swallow at the thought of playing for Jean, but I already promised myself I’d do it for him since he asked the other day. There’s no backing out now! Besides, I even took the time last night to learn a song by that band he likes, Linkin Park. That in itself was nearly impossible because they yell and rap in most of their songs. After a lot of research though, I found a song by them that uses acoustic guitar. It was an easy one too so it didn’t take much time at all to learn. Finding it in the first place was the only issue.

“Mikasa and Armin are here!” I hear Connie call out while he and Sasha pull their own presents out of his trunk. I smile, glad that they got the cake and got here on time. The whole reason they made Eren ride with me was because they were afraid he’d make them late by spending time browsing the bakery.

“So are Ymir and Krista.” Bertholdt adds softly. I look up to see two more cars gliding over the hot asphalt on languidly turning wheels. 

“Who’s ready to party?” Ymir asks with a lazy grin through her open window as she pulls up in her beat up, old minivan. She’s wearing a pair of large sunglasses and fanning herself with a folded up piece of paper. Krista is sweltering in the passenger seat, currently in the process of tying up her thick, blonde hair.

“Still didn’t get your AC fixed?” Connie teases Ymir. She responds readily.

“Your shit-mobile may have AC but at least I don’t have to worry about my car breaking down in the middle of the intersection at 4th and Sina.” 

“That was one time!” I hear Connie argue. I chuckle and then shift my attention to Armin and Mikasa who are walking around to her backseat to get the cake.

“I’m really excited!” Armin exclaims, clapping his hands together once before opening the car door. Mikasa nods wordlessly and Eren immediately is at her side to help her take out her present for Jean.

“What for?” Eren asks. Armins scoffs at him and shakes his head, not even bothering to answer him as he lifts not one, not two, but _three _sheet cakes out of Mikasa’s backseat.__

“Whoa, I don’t think we’re going to be able to eat all of that.” I say with a laugh.

“I can!” Sasha cries out, eyeing the cakes hungrily. Armin hugs them closer to his body, taking a few steps closer to me and away from Sasha’s growling stomach.

“Only one of them is for us. I got the other two for the rest of the kids on Jean’s floor. I’d hate to see a party going on and not get any cake.” Armin explains with a gentle smile. I swear he may just be the nicest person I’ve ever met. Reiner comes over and ruffles Armin’s hair before taking two of the cakes from his arms with one hand.

“Good thinking dude.” He comments. I close my trunk and then take a long glance around. Ymir and Krista have joined us now, presents in tow. Bertholdt and Reiner are standing next to one another in a flurry of multicolored balloons. Mikasa and Eren are armed with enough decorations to cover the entire hospital, and Sasha and Connie are up to their necks in party snacks. Annie is empty handed except for a single envelope in her right hand, a card for Jean. I feel my face soften at her despite the bright sun in my eyes, knowing that although she may not seem like it sometimes, she really does care.

“Are we ready to go in?” Armin asks happily, looking at me expectantly. 

“Yeah, it’s hot as balls out here!” Connie calls out. I chuckle and nod in agreement, leading the way into the hospital’s front doors.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We’re pretty much done setting up Jean’s room by the time Franny the nurse stops by. She gasps in awe when she enters, spinning around with her arms stretched out.

“Wow, it looks so magical in here! You guys are good!” She exclaims before pulling me into a tight hug. I hug her back, appreciating everything she did to help this whole thing work. She forced Jean to go to group therapy today, which apparently he’s supposed to go to twice a week. He’s skipped it for quite a long time though, so I didn’t even know he was supposed to be going. He’s there now so that we’d have time to set up the party and await his return.

“Just so you know, Jean is a little cranky today. I think it’s because I made him go to group though. And also because he doesn’t think you’re visiting today.” She explains. I nod, feeling oddly flattered that Jean would be in a bad mood because he thinks he won’t see me. It’s sort of sweet in a childish, yet very Jean-ish sort of way.

“Thank you for making him go. I know he’s not happy about it but it really helped us out.”

“No problemo! He’ll get over it.” She says, finally releasing me from our hug. Then turns her attention to everyone else in the room, her grin growing even wider.

“Hey! It’s great to see all you guys back here! I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Franny, one of Jean’s regular nurses.” I explains. Greetings chorus out from the ten others crammed into the small room. They all have the same awkward expressions of both hopefulness and guilt, and it almost makes me feel a bit bad for them. They all must be worried about how Jean will react to them being back here. I know Jean can hold a grudge, but I really don’t think he’ll be anything be ecstatic to see them. 

“All right, well he should be just about done now. So I’m going to go down and get him. Be ready to surprise him!” She says with a squeal before fleeing the room. Nurse Franny is like a ray of sunshine wherever she goes, always excited about something. She’s been good at boosting my mood these past few weeks whenever Jean’s having a hard day and I’m feeling particularly useless.

All of us burst into a flurry of movement as we make last minute finishing touches on the room. Bertholdt is the only one who can reach the ceiling, so he’s adding extra streamers just about everywhere. Reiner is stacking all of Jean’s presents in the corner by the window, a fairly large amount actually. I guess it pays to have a lot of friends. There are eleven of us here, all running around like chickens with our heads cut off. I bump into Connie on my way over to the bed to slide my guitar case underneath it. I want to surprise Jean with the song, so it shouldn’t be visible until I’m ready. 

“Does he really need the bathroom decorated?” Ymir asks Connie, who apparently was on his way to there when we collided, with another pile of banners and a few more balloons.

“Absolutely!” He replies excitedly, disappearing into the small room. I chuckle, turning my attention to Sasha and Armin who are finishing up their discussion on exactly how to arrange the chips, candy, cheese curls, and cake on the small table provided in Jean’s room. Mikasa is remaking Jean’s bed since Eren stood on it earlier to assist Bertholdt in hanging the streamers. Krista is helping her, fluffing his pillows with a peaceful smile on her face. Annie and Eren are sitting on the windowsill, him talking animatedly and her silently listening.

Suddenly we all halt at the same time, everyone having heard the faint but familiar tone of a certain foul-mouthed friend of ours echoing down the hallway.

“All I’m saying is that the only thing more depressing than having cancer is having to hang out with other people who have it, and then talk about having it. I mean really, who came up with that shit?” Jean’s voice looms closer. We quickly shut the curtains over his window and turn out the lights, crouching down in the darkness of his room. All of us motionless, I can hear the excited breaths of everyone as we await his arrival. 

“It’s good to talk about it sometimes. Who knows, you could even make some new friends.” I hear Franny respond. Jean’s bitter laugh sails down the hall.

“Yeah. Hey mom, I made a bunch of new friends at the hospital! Yeah we met through the fact that every single one of us might kick the bucket soon.” 

“That’s definitely Jean.” Renier’s low, rumbling voice behind me whispers quietly with a small chuckle. I grin at that, still not quite sure why in the world I find Jean’s angry, merciless demeanor so charming.

“Well don’t think of it that way. Think of it as a bonding experience.” Franny insists, her voice looming ever closer to the doorway. Any second now they’ll round the corner. I smile to myself, my heart racing from excitement. And just as Jean huffs in frustration and is about to reply to her, he comes around the corner. Before he has a chance to realize what’s going on, or even so much as enter the doorway, we jump up and turn on the lights and open the shades all at once.

“SURPRISE!” We all cry out happily, a chorus of voices as Jean stops in his tracks. His initial reaction is complete shock. For a moment, he just stares at all of us, and then the decorated room, and then us again. Then his eyes train on me, a questioning look on his face. I mouth a silent _please _to him, beginning to become worried. Please just accept it and forget the past. Please just let yourself be happy…__

I and just about everyone else in the room breathe out sighs of relief when he slowly begins to crack a smile. He’s standing with Franny’s help right now, wearing actual clothes for once instead of his gown. In fact, he looks very nice in his faded, gray jeans and his red t-shirt that is sporting the name of a band I’ve never heard of before. And of course, my hat. Jean lets out a small chuckle when I walk over to him and offer him my arm to take him from Franny. For once, instead of being stubborn, he just accepts it silently and allows me to lead him over to the chair I usually sit in when I visit. 

“You guys scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims, easing himself in the seat with my help. Once he speaks, the tension in the room dissipates completely and everyone starts talking at once. I back up to the window, letting everyone else brush past me to go catch up with him. Hoisting myself up onto the windowsill, I sit back and watch the heartwarming scene in front of me. Everyone is exchanging hugs with Jean, being gentle with him and greeting him excitedly. I think Sasha is even crying! What may be the most comforting thing though is the expression on Jean’s face. He looks so overjoyed and taken aback by the love in the room. This whole time he’s thought he was alone, but he never really was. For a moment, he leans to side and catches my eye to send me one of his usual smirks. Typical Jean. I answer it with a wave and mouth a _thank you _to him.__

“He seems happy.” I hear a female voice say next to me. I turn and see that it’s Annie speaking. I barely recognized her tone because I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak with a smile in her voice. But yet here she is, beaming at everyone from afar just like I am. When I speak, my voice sounds just like it always does every time I talk about Jean. I’m not sure exactly what it is yet, but I know I sound just a tad different. I guess I sound lighter, like all the stress in the world couldn’t get me down. The everyday weight that I bear on my shoulders is suddenly gone when I think about him. And part of me, an admittedly very large part, hopes that I make Jean feel the same way.

“Yeah…he is.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Happy birthday Mr. Jean!” A child’s voice rings through the air over the music playing and people talking. Jean turns and waves happily to yet another child-patient who has popped their head through the doorway to greet him. Apparently Armin, who is giving pieces of cake to all the children on the floor, is asking them to wish Jean a happy birthday as payment for the cake. 

“You know those kids are never going to leave you alone after this.” Eren comments from his position of lounging on the bed.

“I’m trying not to think about it.” Jean laughs, the smile on his face not fading one bit. The party has been going on for a while and everyone has been having a great time. Pretty much everyone in the whole children’s cancer ward has dropped by Jean’s room at least once, both patients and hospital staff alike. I haven’t gotten much time with him so far, but I’m not concerned because I plan on staying here later than everyone else. Partly because I know I’ll need to clean up, but also because there’s no way I’m playing guitar and singing for Jean with the rest of our friends here. That’s just going to be between him and me.

“Hey, Krista. Do you know what time it is?” I hear Ymir ask loudly. When a wide, angelic grin sparks on Krista’s face, I know exactly what’s coming next.

“Why yes I do. I believe it’s…Present time!” She cries out, earning whoops of agreement from everyone. Bertholdt walks over to the pile of presents and picks up a few, ready to hand them over the Jean.

“You guys really didn’t have to get me anything.” Jean protests. Murmurs of dismissal sound throughout the room and the first gift is thrust into his hands. He gives an exasperated sigh but his face still betrays his good mood When he tears the wrapping paper, immediately tons of DVD boxes fall out into his lap.

“I got you ten of your favorite action movies.” Ymir announces. “Well a couple of them are my favorites too, but you’d be crazy not to love them.” She adds with a smirk, Jean mirroring hers with one of his own.

“You’re fucking crazy Ymir. Thank you though. Honestly they have the shittiest channels on TV here. You know I’ll be watching these instead from now on.” He exclaims, gathering them up, pausing to read the description on the back of one. Then he hands them to Armin who has taken a break from cake distribution to join us in the room. 

“Ooh, Bertholdt! Can you give him mine next? Mine is the one with the brown, eco-friendly wrapping paper. It’s under that bag with the big bow.” Krista pleads, tugging lightly on Bertholdt’s shirt. Blushing and already beginning to sweat, he politely removes her hands and then retrieves her gift box. Sometimes I feel bad for Bertholdt because of how easily everything gets him worked up. But then again, when he’s with Reiner he seems happier than the rest of us. I think the two of them have the same kind of friendship that Jean and I have. We’re not just best friends, but we also depend on each other constantly and need one another around…

Once Krista’s present is handed to him, he dives into that one as well. According to the group, Krista is known for giving great homemade gifts. She’s very good with arts and crafts. And to prove those claims correct, Jean pulls out, unfolds, and holds up an absolutely beautifully crocheted afghan. Its expanse is broken up into thick chevron lines of just about every color in existence.

“Rainbow?” Jean asks, his voice light hearted.

“I couldn’t bear to exclude any colors. I just love them all!” Krista justifies, laughing. 

“Fair enough. I love it! Thank you!” He says, wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape. I have a feeling that he’ll keep that blanket on for the remainder of the party.

The next present he opens is from Mikasa and it’s a very vintage looking Greenday shirt. I didn’t even know he liked Greenday. Even I know them and they have plenty of songs I could have chosen from to play for him on guitar. But oh well, Linkin Park is his absolute favorite so it’s better I stick with them for the song.

Up next is Sasha, and her present is a giant, and I mean _giant _, bag of homemade deer jerky. It’s funny because I never really thought of Sasha as the hunting type. She’s always seemed more of just an eating type to me. But according to Connie, who notices my confused look and steps closer to explain, she goes hunting with her family whenever she visits them out in the country. And apparently her homemade deer jerky is to die for.__

“Back up! I’m not sharing this with anybody!” Jean argues, slapping a stray, grabbing hand away that belongs to Eren.

“Fine, fine. Well hey, you should open my present next.” Eren says, a devious grin already forming on his face. Oh jeez, what is he planning? He goes over and gets the biggest box and plops it on Jean’s lap. Jean opens it tentatively, unlike all the others that he ripped into right away.

Everyone starts to snicker when the signature white, house-shaped box from Build-a-Bear is exposed underneath the wrapping. Rolling his eyes, Jean opens it and pulls out an extremely pink and extremely sparkly unicorn, which transforms the snickers around the room into full blown laughs.

“Really? A unicorn?” Jean asks in a playfully disapproving voice.

“Wait, it gets better.” Eren manages to choke out, his eyes already tearing up with laughter. “Squeeze it. Squeeze it!” Jean does as he says, and a voice that is obviously a recording of Eren’s sails out from within the toy.

It says “You’re a douchebag!”

For a moment, everyone is silent is confused shock. Then in an instant the entire room is howling with laughter. Jean snorts as he shrugs and hands the unicorn to Armin to set somewhere else. Ymir looks like she can’t breathe and Eren is close to falling over it seems. Even I chuckle a bit at the ridiculous present.  
“Don’t you have to record the message in the store?” Annie asks, holding back her own giggles.

“Yeah, you should have seen the employee’s face!” Eren hoots, bursting into another fit of raucous laughter along with Jean. After everything dies down, Eren tells Armin to reach into the back on the unicorn. He pulls out a giftcard to a restaurant called Maria’s and Jean groans, covering his face with his hands while everyone else lets out cheers.

“He used to work there and almost every night we would go there to eat and mess with him.” Reiner explains to me happily. I nod, smiling as Jean throws the unicorn at Eren’s face.

“Oh my God, you’re such a dick.” Jean informs him teasingly. Eren shrugs, admitting the truth in that statement.

“Well if Eren is done being a jerk, I’d like to give you my present now.” Armin says, shooting Eren a joking glare. His present ends up being a much more useful and kind-hearted. Armin once again proves that he’s the sweetest one out of all our friends. His genuine eagerness to please and humble intelligence is impossible not to appreciate. His earnest, hopeful expression while Jean reaches into the bag makes me want to give him a hug.

Jean pulls out a mildly thick, paperback book. He holds it close to his face and reads both the front and the back, smiling to himself while he does so.

“What book is it?” Connie asks from next to me in the corner of the room.

“It’s called _Living in Remission: A Health Guide for Recovering Cancer Patients _.” Jean says quietly, obviously deep in thought.__

“You know, for when you get better.” Armin chimes in. Instead of answering, Jean pulls him down for a big hug. Knowing Jean, I can tell he’s trying not to cry. But I also know him enough that there’s no way he’ll let that happen in front of all his friends. I feel a warmth blossom inside me from the way Armin said when he gets better, not if. Jean needs to know that other people besides me are hoping for him and truly believe that he’ll recover.

“Thanks man.” Jean murmurs into Armin’s shoulder. Armin simply nods with a smile and pats him on the back before letting go.

“Of course.” He says graciously, looking even happier than Jean does, just from being able to give him something.

“Well since nobody can top that, I might as well go next since mine will probably be the most disappointing.” Annie drawls from the windowsill. She hops down and hands her envelope to him. He opens it gingerly and pulls out an extremely generic birthday card with a picture of a cake on the front and just the words ‘happy birthday’ on the inside. Out of it flutters a twenty-dollar bill, which reveals ‘ANNIE’ scrawled on the bottom of the card in capital letters.

“Sorry, I’m pretty broke.” Annie says with a shrug. Jean shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I really appreciate it!” Jean insists, which is surprisingly unlike him to say. I’m surprised he didn’t heckle her for being cheap or lazy or anything. But then again, even Jean can sense when someone is truly embarrassed or ashamed about something. In those cases, he’s very gentle and understanding as opposed to his usual abrasiveness. He’s shown it with me multiple times.

“My turn!” Connie shouts all of the sudden, leaving my side and rushing over to the almost depleted pile of presents by the window. Only two are left once he takes his, and I know that one of them is from me.

“Be careful with it.” He warns as he sets it on Jean’s lap. He raises an eyebrow as he begins to cautiously rip away the wrapping paper. Once he opens the box, he reveals six bottles of a mysterious brown liquid.

“What the fuck is this?” He asks with a chuckle. Connie is eager to explain by the look of his grin.

“It’s homemade ginger tea. I made it myself! It’s supposed to stop you from throwing up and stuff like that. I read that people on chemo throw up a lot.” He says excitedly.

“Sasha finally got you on Pinterest, didn’t she.” Jean smirks, causing Sasha let out a victorious whoop and Connie to stutter defensively. “Thank you though. I think this will really help. Because I’ve actually been having a bit of a problem with that.” Jean admits. Connie recovers and returns to his thrilled expression.

“All right, I guess we’ll go next.” Reiner says as Bertholdt picks up the other remaining box besides mine and they make their way over to Jean’s chair. “Here you go. This is from Bertl and me.” Reiner adds. Bertholdt sets the box in Jean’s lap and then steps back silently. Jean opens it quickly and then lets out a surprised gasp as he views what’s inside.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, reaching in gently and removing a very nice, very expensive looking, white and blue track jacket. After looking at it for a moment I realize that in the top right corner of the chest there is an emblem that says ‘Track  & Field All-star: Trost High School’. When he turns it around, the back sports 'KIRSTEIN' in big, bold, capital letters.

“How’d you guys get this? I thought only seniors who made regionals…” Jean trails off, staring at it some more.

“We talked to Coach Smith and he said if we pay for it he’d get you one. Because lets be honest, everyone knows that you would have made regionals this year if you were still on the team.” Reiner explains. Then Bertholdt actually speaks up for once.

“Yeah. Also, he also said that if you’re back in school next year, he’ll give you first choice on what events you want to do, even above the other seniors.” He adds. Jean grins at that, finally losing the awed and shocked expression.

“Wow. Thank you so much guys. This is great!” He exclaims, high fiving both of them happily. It’s so great to see Jean so delighted that I almost forget that I’m the only person who hasn’t given their present yet.

“What about yours?” Ymir asks, nudging me with her elbow.

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” I feel a fleeting blush pass over my face as I grab my gift and hand it to Jean.

“Saving the best for last?” He asks with a smirk, giving me a quick wink.

“I wouldn’t say that.” I laugh, hating the fact that my dissipating blush was rekindled by the wink he gave me. He removes the wrapping paper and grins when he sees the Nike symbol on the box.

“No way.” He opens it up and then repeats himself, but louder this time. “No way!” He exclaims, pulling out one of the blue running shoes. I can feel myself beaming with joy as he expresses his excitement. 

“Dude, these are so expensive. Do you even understand how awesome these shoes are?”

“Uh, not really. I pretty much just went into the Nike store and asked for the best running shoes they had and the guy gave me those.” I admit, scratching the back of my head. Jean laughs.

“Jesus Marco, you’re crazy. You know that? But you’re also the fucking best.” He acknowledges, giving me one of those glorious, shining smiles of his.

“I’m glad you like it. And they’ll go with your running jacket too actually.” I add.

“Yeah, how’s that for luck? We totally didn’t plan that. Nice going dude!” Reiner exclaims, patting me roughly once on the back. I grin, but not at Reiner. I’m grinning at Jean who is glowing back at me, his expression slightly different from when he received the rest of the presents. It takes me a bit to put my finger on it, but then I think back and realize that the intensity in his eyes wasn’t there when he was talking to the others. 

That’s when I come to the realization that he only looks at me like that. That fierce, acute, deep look he gives that stings me and kisses it better in all the same instant and grabs me roughly yet calmingly…It’s just for me. And that conclusion gives me a strange, stomach-twisting, heart warming, guilt-inducing satisfaction that I know for a fact I _shouldn’t _be feeling.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I'd just like to thank you all again for being understanding about the wait. To be completely honest, I've been going through some health problems recently and this weekend and yesterdayI had tons of testing, which is why I couldn't write. I felt like such a jerk for a bit because at one point the doctor said it might be brain cancer and I was like areyoufuckingseriousitotallyjynxedmyselfwritingthatstoryi'msuchanasshole -.-
> 
> But after some more conclusive tests, I DON'T have cancer. Turns out I actually have epilepsy, which is really crappy but waaaaay better than pretty much every other thing it could have been. So I apologize for the wait but I needed some time to absorb that information, decide on treatment, and get some much needed rest after a really stressful couple of days.
> 
> I'm not trying to guilt you guys or anything, I promise! I just wanted to be honest with you all because I love you so much and you keep me writing. Thank you for commenting and complaining that I'm slow because it made me keep up with working on it! So keep riding my ass guys <3
> 
> Next chapter will start right at the end of the party, and Marco will finally play that song for Jean :)


	9. The Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry!!! I know, I took like ten years to update and you all probably hate me :'( But I've been working tons of overtime lately and my brain has been pretty much fried by the time I get home every evening. I know that's not an excuse, but I'm begging for your forgiveness guys!
> 
> Also, as you already know, Marco will be singing/playing a song for Jean in this chapter. So I went on an extensive youtube search for a cover of the song he's singing that most closely resembles how I'd imagine it sounding when he sings/plays it. Because even though I love Linkin Park to death, you have to admit they're quite yelly. And I don't want to have you guys imagining Marco sitting there screaming at Jean in his hospital room! Sooooo here's a link to a video I think matches my imagination quite nicely. (No, I'm not endorsing this guy, and no it's not perfect. And yeah, he says "angel faces" instead of "angel voices", but I learned to look past it lol. Trust me, try to look up any other non-yelly cover of it and you'll appreciate me sifting through them all for you.) 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXS7zWfkN3E  
> Enjoy!

JEAN’S POV:

“It was really nice seeing you. I’ll let you know when I’m free this week if you wouldn’t mind me visiting again.” Armin says as he heads towards the door. The party is finally over and he’s the last person leaving, well besides Marco of course, who is busy taking down the decorations and cleaning up the leftover food.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind you coming by again.”

“Even if I bring Eren?” He asks, pausing in the doorway and looking back at me.

“Hmm…Let me sleep on it.” I joke. Armin rolls his eyes and waves goodbye as he leaves. “I’m joking! Bring whoever you want man.” I call after him. After hearing a faint ‘will do’ float down the hallway, I let myself take a deep breath and relax into my chair. Snuggling deeper into the ridiculous looking but extremely comfy blanket Krista made me, I simply watch Marco for a few moments. He’s currently standing on his tippy-toes to reach a banner that is hanging just out of his reach. 

I can’t believe he planned all of this for me. Nobody actually said it was his doing but I know him well enough to figure out that he’s the one that got this whole thing together. Him and Armin are the only ones I know that are thoughtful enough to do that. But Marco is the only one crazy enough.

For a moment I just smile peacefully and allow myself to really look at him. 

Okay, I’d be kidding myself if I said I’m not totally checking him out right now. But he’s just so damn good-looking and adorable and freckled and tall and muscular and sweet and perfect and…God dammit, I’m doing it again. I like him so much it aches, and every time he does a sweet gesture for me it makes it twice as bad. Especially this party, since it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Today alone made the whole situation about ten times worse than it already was.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that.” I tell him just as he finally reaches high enough to grasp the banner and rip it down. He turns and faces me momentarily with that enchanting smile of his.

“Well I’m not going to make you do it. And I’m pretty sure the hospital would never let me back in here if I made them clean everything up.” He insists, shoving the banner into a trash bag. “Besides, I’m almost done now anyway. It’ll just be another minute or so.”

I don’t answer and opt to simply go back to watching him instead. Marco is wearing a pale maroon v-neck with a pair of slightly tight-fitting, dark khakis that are rolled up at the bottom. He always dresses ridiculously nice and stylish, and it amazes me that he never fails to look crisp and neat each and every day. Here I am in jeans that I’m pretty sure I literally rolled around in mud while wearing one time and a band tee that I bought for fifteen bucks at a shitty local concert last year.

At least I’m not wearing that damn hospital gown for once. Thank God for Franny who convinced me I should wear regular clothes for that useless cancer group thing. I feel a little bad for bitching about it at her now that I know it was just to get me out of the room so they could set up the party. But oh well, she always takes things in stride. Most people learn to do so if they hang around me long enough.

Marco reaches up for a few remaining streamers from the ceiling and I can’t help but steal a fleeting glance of his ass…All right, it’s more of a relentless stare than a glance. But that’s not the point. The point is that he has a really, really nice ass. But I should have expected it, because Marco is way too perfect to not have a really, really nice _everything _.__

__“All right, finished!’” He exclaims happily, disposing of the rest of the streamers. Then he walks over to me._ _

__“Do you want me to help you into your bed?” He asks. I nod silently, allowing him to take my hands and gently pull me up. I almost sigh at the feeling of holding his smooth, strong hands in mine, but I hold it back. He lets go and wraps his arm around my back. After he helps me into bed, he grabs the blanket that fell off my shoulders when I stood up and lays it over me._ _

__“Thanks for tucking me in mom.” I say jokingly, causing Marco to roll his eyes._ _

__“You’re welcome little Jean.” He answers, dragging the chair I was just in over to his usual spot to the left of my bed. Once he sits down, I cross my arms and prepare to interrogate him._ _

__“So be honest, was the party your idea?” I ask him, getting right to the point._ _

__“Depends. How mad would you be if it was?” He answers teasingly, taking me by surprise. Usually I’m the one messing with him. It’s very…attractive when he does it._ _

__“Furious.” I answer with a smirk. He matches mine with his own, which is extremely adorable._ _

__“Then yes, it was totally me.” He admits, leaning back in his chair and stretching is arms._ _

__“What, do you like getting me mad or something?”_ _

__“You get all grumbly when you’re mad. It’s funny.” He explains, flashing me an overdramatic, toothy grin. Instead of answering, I grab that awful unicorn toy Eren spent way too much money getting for me and squeeze it._ _

__“You’re a douchebag!” Eren’s voice comes out of it. Marco laughs heartily at that and swats it out of my hand._ _

__“Hey be careful with it! It’s my favorite toy!” I exclaim sarcastically._ _

__“You even like it more than Mr. Hippo?” He asks, raising an eyebrow._ _

__“Oh shit, you’re right. Fuck that unicorn. Mr. Hippo is the best!” I say, eliciting another giggle from him. Then I become a bit more serious after a couple moments. “But I’m not really mad about the party. I was just kidding. Thank you for doing that for me.” I add._ _

__“I could tell you needed it.” He says. I scratch the back of my head bashfully and let out a small chuckle._ _

__“I didn’t really know I did until you made it happen. But you’re right, I did.”_ _

__“So you enjoyed yourself?” he asks, a hopeful expression on his face._ _

__“Yeah, a lot…You’re the best dude. You have no idea. And those sneakers you got me. I mean really, how much did those cost?” I ask. He shakes his head with a closed mouth smile._ _

__“One, it’s not proper gift-giving etiquette to reveal how much I spent on your present. And two, I’m actually not done with the gifts. I have more for you but I wanted to wait until everyone else left.” Marco informs me. I gape at him in disbelief. He’s not serious, is he?_ _

__“Absolutely not! You’re not giving me anything else. You already spent way too much on me man!” I argue, shaking my head vehemently at him. But he just ignores me and starts reaching under the bed. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Marco, it’s that he’s surprisingly relentless sometimes. He may not seem like it, but he may be even more stubborn than I am when it comes to things he’s certain on._ _

__For example, whenever I doubt myself in front of him he won’t quit arguing against it until I take it back or promise that I’ll keep fighting. He’s very serious about that, and while it always frustrates me at the time, I know he only does it for my own good._ _

__Suddenly he’s plopping a rectangular present onto my lap. I glance at his eager face for a moment before opening it. He looks so adorable it’s almost too much to bear. I concentrate far too much on removing the wrapping paper to try and distract myself from him. Once it’s gone, I realize with a flutter of the heart that inside is a thick, brown, moleskin notebook. I untie the binding slowly and open it, flipping through its crisp, blank, off-white pages._ _

__“Wow.” I breathe, imagining all of the drawings I could fill this with. Nothing makes me want to draw more than holding a fresh, new notebook in my hands. How long has it really been since I actually grabbed a pencil and created something? I never even thought about it until I mentioned it to him the other day. It’s been at least two years I think._ _

__“This is so great. Thank you Marco.” I say happily._ _

__“Now you don’t have any excuse not to show me some drawings soon.”_ _

__“Nope. You said you’d play a song on guitar for me first!” I argue, pointing an accusing finger at him. Instead of the exasperated but defeated look I’m expecting to appear on his face, he flashes me another perfect smile and then bends down again to grab something else from underneath my bed._ _

__“I know, I didn’t forget about that. Luckily there happens to be a guitar under here somewhere…” He trails off, grunting slightly as he gets onto the floor to pull out a large guitar case. I swear I almost squeal with excitement when I realize what’s going on. Marco’s going to play guitar and sing for me!_ _

__“Oh my God, yes!” I exclaim, sitting up cross-legged. Marco chuckles as he opens up the case lifts out a beautiful, classic looking guitar. Its body is a simple, rosy-brown wood color, except for the intricate, Aztec-looking markings circling the sound hole._ _

__“Can you come up here to play?” I ask, patting my bed lightly. He nods and makes his way onto my bed to sit at the end, facing me with his legs crisscross-applesauce like mine. I lean forward eagerly and fold my hands in my lap. Then, staring at him with what I’m sure is a really stupid grin, I wait for him to start. He presses his fingers in the tops of the strings and gets ready to strum, but he hesitates. When my eyes travel up to his face I notice that a blush has already tinged his cheeks and he looks apprehensive._ _

__“Are you nervous or something?” I ask. He nods with an embarrassed chuckle, letting out a big whoosh of air._ _

__“Sorry, sorry. I’m fine.” He assures me unconvincingly._ _

__“You don’t have to be nervous with me. Just imagine me in my underwear!” I suggest, causing his eyes to widen to almost unnatural degrees and his face to deepen a few more hues. Okay, so that didn’t help at all._ _

__“I’m fine.” He insists, blinking a few times and then smiling. Then, before he can get himself worked up any more, he starts strumming._ _

__They’re simple chords, and they sound slightly familiar but there is nothing about them that can distinguish them as belonging to a specific song yet. But they sound kind and soft. He’s finger strumming instead of using a pick, so the sound it gives off is edgeless and rounded. My heart is already fluttering just at his playing, but when he starts singing…_ _

__I can’t deny, I fall in love with him the moment he opens his mouth._ _

_“When you’re feel you’re alone, cut off from this cruel world. Your instinct’s telling you to run.” _he begins in a saintly tone. I’ve always been attracted to his voice, but it sounds completely different when he’s singing. It’s lighter, and it’s the absolutely purest thing I’ve ever heard. In the midst of staring at him in complete awe, I begin to realize that the song he’s playing is extremely familiar now.__

_“Listen to your heart, those angel voices. They’ll sing to you. They’ll be your guide back home.” ___

__Holy shit, Marco is too damn sweet. It’s the Messenger, by Linkin Park. Not only did he learn a song by my favorite band to sing for me, but he managed to find the one acoustic song they have. Marco’s voice rises in volume ever so slightly for the chorus as he gains confidence._ _

_“When life leaves us blind. Love keeps us kind. It keeps us kind.” _He croons, cracking a smile slightly when he looks me in the eye for a moment. Then he continues, letting his eyes fall closed briefly before the next verse. I scoot a little closer and let myself really look at him again. Not at how perfect he looks or how adorable his freckled face is this time, but just at who he is. Marco is the most authentically kind person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t do things in hopes of getting something in return. He just does things to be a good person and to make other people happy. Just looking at everything he’s done for me today is insane, let alone everything he’s done in the last month.__

__But not only is Marco a nice guy, there are also so many other things about him that draw me in. He’s very intelligent and analytical, but also knows when to put that aside to go with his gut. And obviously he’s talented, which he’s proving to me right now. But also there are so many subtle, almost imperceptible nuances about him that I’ve begun to notice more and more lately._ _

__It’s the amused, doubtful look he gives me every time I say something dumb. It’s the way he rests his pointer finger above his upper lip when he’s in deep thought. It’s the way he reacts so whole-heartedly to everything I say. It’s the way he no longer flinches or pulls away instinctively when we touch or brush accidently. But I think most of all it’s his energy that makes me fall for him. Every day he comes in here with a skip in his step and a breathtaking smile, ready to cheer me up._ _

__Yeah, I think I’m seriously in love with him…I know I’ve only known the guy for four weeks or so, but I can’t help it. Honestly, he’s fucking perfect. I can’t imagine ever not wanting him to be here with me, singing to me, or making me laugh, or letting me make him laugh, or just talking with me, or even just sitting with to me. Any time with him at all makes me impossibly happy._ _

_“When you’ve suffered enough and your spirit is breaking,” _Marco opens his eyes, gazing at me.__

_"You’re growing desperate from the fight… _” He looks at me pointedly, as if to tell me that he means the words he’s singing.__

_"Remember you’re loved. You always will be. This melody will bring you right back home." ___

__I guess I am loved._ _

__It’s hard to keep myself from both laughing and crying at the same time when I think about how he promised he’d prove to me I’m worth loving back when he convinced me to restart the chemo. Well he did it with what he did today. Everyone was here, acting just like they always have, like nothing ever changed. It felt as if they hadn’t even been gone for a second. I have friends again, and more importantly I have Marco here with me._ _

__Nobody who didn’t love me would do all the things for me that he has. There’s no way to tell in what way he loves me, but I know he does. He cares about me so much, which both warms my heart and breaks it at the same time. Because now that his love has made me want to live, I’m scared that I won’t have enough time left with him. Dying suddenly has become a much more frightening prospect._ _

_“When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind. When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind.” ___

__I wonder if my life has left me blind…It’s been hard. And I’ve become so negative over the years because of it. I mean, I’ve had good reason to become to way I am. I watched my dad die right in front of me at the age of ten, and then was left to deal single-handedly with my mom’s gradual mental deterioration for the next eight years. And the entire time I was hiding my true self from the world because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach any more problems than I already had. Not that it mattered anyway, because I still got fucking cancer. But yeah, I guess I’m a tad bitter at this point._ _

__Marco, however, makes me forget about all that shit for a little while whenever he’s here with me. I guess in a way he does keep me kind, because before he came around I just lied in this bed and hated everyone and everything all day. I snapped at all the staff even though all they’ve ever done is help me, and I silently cursed all the kids on this floor for even trying to be happy despite our circumstances._ _

__But I think what he’s changed most about me is that I no longer hate myself. I’ve started following his example and accepting myself for who I am, sickness and all. Never in a million years did I think I would be able to do that. Marco sure is something else._ _

__He starts to finish out the song with quiet oh’s, and I close my eyes to sound of his voice, savoring the last of it. I could listen to him sing to me all day. After the last chord rings through the room the dies out, I look up to see him looking timidly at me, as if he’s unsure of how he did. God, Marco is such a little dork._ _

__I quickly scoot over to close to distance between us and throw my arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug. He chuckles and carefully removes his guitar from in between our bodies and sets it on the bed next to us. Then he wraps his firm, warm arms snugly around my lower back. I sigh into his shoulder, letting myself delight in the luxurious feeling of him holding me._ _

__“Thank you.” I breathe into his shirt fabric, unsure if he can even hear me. Shit, Marco smells really fucking good. I have no idea what scent it is because I’ve never been good with stuff like that, but I absolutely love it._ _

__“You don’t have to thank me. It’s just a song.” His chest rumbles against mine as he speaks, and I can hear the smile in his voice. One of his hands has begun to rub small, sluggish circles on my back. I don’t even know if he realizes he’s doing it, but microscopic chills propagate up my nerves at the sensation._ _

__“For everything.” I broaden, earning a quiet hum of understanding from him as I tighten my grip on him slightly. Then, once again I’m not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, he turns his head slightly towards me when he speaks. So that when he does, his breath sweeps over my ear in a heart-stopping way._ _

__“Like I said, you don’t have to thank me.” He whispers, leaving me speechless, without a single snarky comeback or clever comment ready to fire back at him. Marco tends to do that to me more and more lately._ _

A final chill makes it way up my spine as I begin to release him from my arms. And maybe it’s the way he hesitates before starting to let go of me as well, or maybe it’s the almost hidden look of disappointment on his freckled face, or maybe it’s just the emotion of the moment getting to me, or MAYBE I’m just fucking insane…but I pause as I’m pulling away, stopping with my face _inches _from his.__

__My heart is about ready to leap out of my chest, but I force myself to keep my cool, silently meeting Marco’s wide-eyed gaze. His face is growing redder by the second and I’m sure mine is as well. But I hold position, begging myself not to chicken out as my breathing quickens immensely. This is it. This could be the start of everything, as long as I don’t screw it up._ _

__Subtly, ever so subtly, I begin to lean in towards him. And I think…I think he’s starting to lean in too…_ _

__“Happy birthday Jean! Thanks for the cake earlier!” an extremely sudden, loud, alarming, irritating, and infuriating child’s voice rings through the small crack of my barely open door._ _

__Oh. My. Fucking. God._ _

__Marco practically hits the ceiling, and he’s already up and across the room by the time the small little boy’s nurse opens the door wider to let him wave to me. I wave back, forcing myself to grin and thank him graciously instead of leaping across the room and strangling the little fuck right then and there._ _

__Damn, did I really just think about killing a little boy who has cancer? Fuck it, he interrupted what was about to be the best moment of my life to date. The little douchebag deserves to get choked out._ _

__Once they’re gone, my fake smile disintegrates instantaneously and I look over at Marco. He’s standing motionlessly in the corner of the room, simply staring at me like a deer caught in headlights. Shit, this isn’t good._ _

__“Uh…sorry about that.” I say timidly, completely unsure of what to say. I wish I were good at handling situations like this, because all I want to do is get us back to where we were before that fucking kid came by. I’m desperate for it. We were so close I could almost taste it. Recognition suddenly passes over Marco’s face as if he were looking at someone else for a moment. Then he laughs awkwardly and waves it off._ _

__“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad the kids like you…But I should get going now.” He says, coming over and grabbing his guitar rather quickly. Fuck, this really isn’t good._ _

__“Oh. Your parents want you home again or something?” I ask. He nods, but I can already tell he’s lying just by his expression._ _

__“Yeah, for dinner.” It’s already past eight-thirty in the evening, and from what I’ve gathered he usually has to be home for seven, so his ass already missed dinner. He might be late for midnight snack eventually, but dinner is long past. He’s already done packing up his guitar and he grabs the case and heads for the door._ _

“I’m glad you had fun at the party. I won’t be able to visit tomorrow because I’m doing that food bank at my church that I told you about. But I’ll see you Monday.” Marco says, obviously in rush to get the fuck away from me. I just stare at him, bewildered and hurt and ultimately confused. I get that he was startled, but that shouldn’t have changed anything majorly. He was going to– _We _were going to…__

__“Text me if you need anything. I…I’ll see you later.” He adds, offering me a forced smile. I don’t bother to return it, because I don’t think I could even try at this point. He hesitates in the doorway for just an extra moment to give me an unreadable look, and then he’s gone._ _

__Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe that seriously just happened. I’m still locked in position, sitting cross-legged near the end of the bed where Marco was. My hands settle on the warm spot he left, and I close my eyes for a moment._ _

_Keep it together Jean. Everything will be fine. He was just nervous, that’s all. You know how nervous Marco gets sometimes. It’s no biggie. ___

__Overwhelmed by frustration, I throw myself forward and flop face down onto the mattress. Then I groan despondently into the blankets._ _

__“Fuuuuuck!”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm pretty sure I just made you all hate me even more, mwahahaha! xD I'm really sorry but I had to do it! Don't worry, things will resolve themselves eventually. But in the meantime, hopefully more Jean-good-news in the next chapter will make up for it??? :D 
> 
> Also I'd just like to really thank you guys for the ridiculous amounts of support I'm getting from all of you. I ever expected the story to get this much traction and I _definitely _didn't expect all of you to be so amazingly awesome and perfect and kind <3 So thank you so much!__


	10. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to be honest. My laptop shit the bed last month and I lost this chapter when I was just finishing it. And once I lost it rewriting it was the hardest thing ever, which is why I've been MIA for so long. But I pushed through and reread all of the past chapters to motivate myself and get a feel for the characters again. So I'm back!
> 
> Also, while I was off being a horrible person and not working on this, I was still writing. A LOT…I wrote 7 chapters for a new Jean/Marco story that I came up with, one that takes place in the SNK universe and involves a certain freckled boy NOT dying during the battle of Trost. And I wrote about 2 1/2 chapters of another Jean/Marco story that I thought of that is a modern AU and takes place when they're in their mid-thirties and they reconcile after 18 years apart. I also drafted two one-shots for Jean/Marco and a ReiBert story because they don't get enough love. Buuut I really don't want to post any of that stuff until I finish this story for you guys because I know once I put them on here I'll totally forget about this little gem. We'll see though!
> 
> Anyway, Jean gets awesome news, secrets are shared, and Marco starts being honest with himself.

MARCO’S POV:

“Hey Nac, it’s me. I kind of need to talk to you about something. Please pick up the phone. Thanks.”

…

“Hey there, it’s me again. Sorry to leave another message but I really need to talk to you as soon as possible. Please, please, please call me back as soon as you get this.”

…

“Nac. Whatever you’re doing, it’s no longer important. Your phone is on so I don’t understand why you’re not answering. You said to call whenever I needed you and I seriously need you right now. Answer me.”

…

“All right…ugh…Remember when I told you I’d update you if I ever started magically wanting dick? Well this is that update. Jean and I almost kissed today, so call me back immediately!”

…

“Oh Nac, it’s about time y–.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“All right, spill! What the heck is this big news you’ve been torturing me with all day?” I don’t even bother to greet Jean as I swing hastily around the corner and through the doorway into his hospital room. He’s sitting up in his bed, a big, dopey, _handsome _grin on his face.__

__It’s been almost a week since his birthday party, and since the…‘incident’ that happened after the party. I still feel bad about losing my cool after it happened, but he hasn’t let on that he’s angry or anything. In fact, neither of us have said a word about it at all. I think it’s for the better, because what would we possibly say about what almost happened in that moment?_ _

After it happened, I just had to get out of there. I can’t quite figure it out in my head yet, but something snapped back into place when that kid interrupted us. Once it happened, I realized what I was doing. What _we _were about to do.__

____Of course were awkward with each other for a couple days afterwards, and I was extremely jumpy around him. I knew he could tell and that it hurt him. But I couldn’t help it after what happened. Because every time I was with him I just thought about the fact that I started to lean in too…and that fact is still absolutely terrifying to me._ _ _ _

____I’ve had quite a few lengthy, in depth conversations with Nac over the phone about what happened. He says I clearly have feelings for Jean, which sounds like the obvious answer. But I’ve yet to come to a real conclusion with myself yet. There’s a chance that maybe I was caught up in the moment, in the song and the way Jean was looking at me as if I was the sun itself. Kind of like the way he’s looking at me now…_ _ _ _

____“This news better be worth me possibly bombing my anatomy exam today.” I comment, plopping into the chair I’ve reclaimed as my seat in the room. I’m still working my way back up to sitting on his bed again with him. I wonder if that bothers him._ _ _ _

____“You’re a super genius so there’s no way you bombed it. But if you did, yes it’s totally worth it.” He says, leaning closer to me over the edge of the bed._ _ _ _

____“Well? Let’s hear it.” I await his explanation, crossing my arms and smirking at him expectantly. He swallows visibly, almost seeming a bit nervous to tell me. My heart kicks up a notch, following his lead._ _ _ _

____“Okay, you know how you drive here every day and hang out with me and help me through chemo?”_ _ _ _

____“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I joke, getting a chuckle out of him. Than I nod, going back to being serious. “Yeah, what about it?”_ _ _ _

____“Would you still keep doing that for me if instead of coming here…I’d be at my place?” He speaks the words slowly, his tone shaking slightly to match the suddenly worried expression on his face. It takes me a few moments to fully process the implications of what he just said._ _ _ _

____Oh my God._ _ _ _

____“Wait, are they actually letting you go home?” I ask with widened eyes, almost in disbelief. Jean gives me a timid nod and I jump up out of my seat immediately, momentarily casting away respectful distance and rebuilt boundaries._ _ _ _

____“Jean! That’s so great!” I exclaim ecstatically, pulling him in for a quick hug. There is an instant of tension that I’m sure he also feels as we pull away, wondering if only for a second if there will be a repeat incident. But it passes silently, like a wave out at sea that never quite crests._ _ _ _

“Are you…is the cancer…” I try to word my question correctly. Really what I want to ask is _are you better? _The sad smile that comes onto Jean’s face is enough to answer that. My heart sinks a bit, but I remind myself that he must be getting at least a little better if they’re discharging him.__

______“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m just getting stable enough that they don’t have to keep me locked up in here.” He explains._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stable is better though.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah.” He replies quietly, the sadness seeping out of his smile. “So you’ll still want to hang out and stuff?” He asks, that nervousness making a brief reappearance._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you crazy? Of course! We’re best friends, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Right.” He Jean replies happily, looking relieved and ultimately thrilled. No matter what, we’ll still be best friends. No awkward situations or life changes will change that between us._ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is that everything?” I ask, raising an eyebrow over at Jean who is shifting uncomfortably in his wheelchair. Only a mid-sized backpack and a small suitcase are lying on the sidewalk next to him, containing all of his belongings from the last five months he spent in the hospital, including all the presents he received at the party. I guess I just expected him to have a bit more._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, I packed light.” He answers bluntly. It’s the day of his discharge and we’re outside the front of the hospital. I just brought my car around and we’re waiting for Franny to come out with Jean’s prescriptions and so she can say goodbye. “Why do I have to be in this stupid wheelchair? I can walk fine.” He complains grumpily. It figures that on the one day he should be happier than usual, he’s in a fowl mood. But I let it roll over my shoulders because that’s just how Jean is. I’m sure I’ll be able to cheer him up somehow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s just the hospital protocol. As soon as she gets out here she’ll let you get out and she’ll help you to the car.” I assure him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t need help.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s better to be safe than sorry.” I point out, picking up his bags and walking over to put them in the trunk of my car. He snorts doubtfully and crosses his arms tightly as the cool breeze strengthens. That’s when I notice that he’s only in a T-shirt. Of course, he only came here with summer clothes since he was admitted in May. An early October chill is setting in quickly these days._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you cold?” I ask, already unzipping my jacket before he answers._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, it’s fucking freezing out here! What’s taking her so long?” Jean bellows, twisting around in his chair to look back at the lobby doors as if that’ll make Franny emerge from the building any sooner. I shimmy my arms out of their sleeves and then toss my thick, brown jacket into Jean’s lap. He flinches and whips his head back around to see what I threw at him. Then finally for the first time today a small smile graces his lips as he picks it up in his hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thanks.” He says, shrugging it on. I can’t help but grin at how he looks once he has it fully on. I’m taller than him and have broader shoulders, so I’m at least a full size bigger than he is. So he looks very adorable slouching in his chair all bundled up in my loose jacket, caught in a strange but very Jean-ish limbo between frowning and smiling._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What?” He asks, noticing me staring. I curse myself for being so painfully obvious as a blush sparks in my cheeks. But it’s too late now, so I might as well be honest._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nothing, you just look good in it.” I compliment him bravely, a little afraid of how he’ll take it after everything. But he just smirks at me._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Keep saying shit like that and you might not get it back.” He chuckles, turning again to look for Franny through the big glass doors. “Where do we have to go after we leave?” he asks. I sigh, pulling out from my back pocket the list I made up after having a long discussion with Franny and Dr. Hallworth about Jean’s outpatient care. I know I won’t be about to take care of him all the time, but I’ll at least be able to make sure he takes care of himself properly when I can’t be there._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We have to stop by the pharmacy and have your prescriptions filled. Then we have to go to that medical supply store on the south side of town to get one of those handles to put on the wall in your shower–“ Jean interrupts me._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh my God, I’m not fucking old.” He complains, rolling his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s just precautionary. And it’s not like anybody’s going to see it when it’s in your shower, so don’t worry about it. But after that we’re going to go to the grocery store and get you some healthy food to eat. Nutrition is key to helping you get better.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I thought chemo was key.” He retorts, smirking again. I don’t bother dignifying that with an answer and instead just sigh again. This is going to be more of a battle than I thought. Just in time, Franny comes galloping quickly through the wide lobby doors, her arms already outstretched._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can’t believe you’re leaving! I’m going to miss you so much, but I’m so happy for you!” She exclaims enthusiastically, bending down and taking Jean into her arms for a violent hug. He tries his best to look displeased but he’s not fooling anyone. It’s impossible not to be uplifted by her heartwarming, genuine care for him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll miss you too Franny. I won’t miss this damn place though.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Of course not, because you’ll be back here every other day for treatment.” She says, causing Jean to roll his eyes. “I’m serious! If you miss even one day I’m going to show up at your house at drag you here!” She warns._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s Marco’s job.” Jean laughs, pointing a thumb over at me._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh okay, then I’m not worried about you skipping then. I can trust Marco, unlike you.” She jokes, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. Then she rushes over and takes me into one of her massive hugs, almost knocking me over._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thank you so much for everything!” She exclaims loudly before hushing her voice down to a whisper. “Really, you changed everything.” She adds so that only I can hear. Then we part and she beams at me before going over to Jean to help him out of his chair. I finish putting his things in the trunk and then hurry over to open the passenger side door for them._ _ _ _ _ _

______Once Jean is seated and the door is closed, Franny offers me one more hug and then waves us away. I’m not sure, but as she turned away it looked as if wetness in her eyes caught the light. I wonder how Jean must be feeling as I slide into the driver’s seat. He’s staring through his window at the hospital, looking up towards the line of windows that we both know is the sixth floor. His floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You ready?” I ask hesitantly, afraid to interrupt his thoughts too jarringly. Jean simply nods, not looking away from the building. Resisting the urge to offer him a reassuring touch, I start the car and we go on our way._ _ _ _ _ _

______While we go to and from our various errands, Jean stays planted in the passenger seat the entire time, motionless except for when he occasionally snuggles deeper into my jacket. A pensive look is ever-present on his face and he doesn’t say much. The only time he speaks is when I’m about to go inside a store and he asks me to hurry back, or when I come back out and he asks where we’re going next. I can tell he’s deep in reflection so I leave him to his thoughts. I’m content just watching him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Seeing Jean here in my car, outside of the hospital, is surreal. It’s as if he’s a mystical creature who’s wandered into real world, catching me off guard. To me, Jean simply existed at St. Rose and nowhere else. I’ve only known him since he was already there, so this is the first time I’m ever seeing him away from the IVs and the white walls and white floors and white sheets and…well everything there was white, including Jean._ _ _ _ _ _

______Unfortunately it’s overcast today, but I find myself wondering how Jean’s face will look bathed in late afternoon sun. His room’s window was facing east so by the time I got there every day the sun was already out of view. The first sunny day we get I’m going to bundle him up and take him outside, even if it’s just for my pleasure. He needs some sun anyway. If he gets any paler I think I might be able to see through his skin._ _ _ _ _ _

______When we’re stopped at a light, he opens his mouth for a long yawn. I look over at him as he wipes away the tears that formed from it with my jacket sleeve._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Tired?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Very.” He says. I glance at the time and it’s a little past four o’ clock. He’s been up all day since the early this morning to pack up his things and fill out the last bits of the paperwork. From what I’ve gathered, he’s used to pretty much sleeping the day away until I visit._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’re almost to your apartment.” I say, reciting the address he told me in my head. He actually doesn’t live that far from my house, yet our neighborhoods contrast starkly from one another. I wouldn’t say that he lives in a bad area of town, but it’s definitely not a good one. As we near his road, we pass trash-covered streets and glaring faces of people sitting on porches or sidewalks despite the cold. I stare in shock at a group of kids playing hockey with broomsticks and other various household items, right in the middle of an intersection. Where are their parents and why are they letting them play in the street like that? I glance over at Jean but he doesn’t seem phased at all. In fact, he looks bored._ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s not until I ease the car to a stop in front of his apartment building that any semblance of emotion appears on his face. He looks unhappy as he removes his seatbelt and takes a deep breath, looking out the window once more. His building is an old, two-story, brick building with stairs leading up to the doors on the second floor. For his sake I hope he’s on the first floor, because I don’t see an elevator anywhere in sight and I can tell how weak his is right now with exhaustion._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Which apartment are you in?” I ask quietly, breaking the comfortable silence we’ve been in. He points begrudgingly out the window to the right, still not looking at me._ _ _ _ _ _

______“213.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Will you be okay going up the stairs?” He looks at me incredulously and nods before opening up his door and sliding his feet out onto the sidewalk. I quickly get out of my own seat and walk around to help him out, offering my arm to him much like I did on the first day we met. He takes it gladly and we carefully make our way over to the stairs that lead up to his apartment._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I repeat, halting right before the first step. Jean’s eyes flash with frustration and I know I’m being annoying, but I can’t help it. I worry about him. Besides, the rough, concrete stairs are quite steep looking by my standards._ _ _ _ _ _

______Without truly answering me he starts making his way up, gripping the railing for dear life. My arm instinctively snakes its way down to his lower back as I shadow him the whole way up, supporting him from behind. Once I realize how closely I’m holding him, nerves spark in my abdomen and I feel a hot flush pass over my cheeks. Thank goodness he can’t see me right now._ _ _ _ _ _

______We finally make it to the top and the door to his apartment is right in front of us. I eye its fading numbers eagerly, finding myself surprisingly curious to see Jean’s home. A person’s place of living reflects his or her personality, something that his sterile hospital room simply couldn’t do. He pulls a lone key from his pants pocket and hesitantly turns it in the lock. I watch his face for a moment and I wonder why he looks so ridiculously unhappy. Shouldn’t he be glad that he’s finally home after so long?_ _ _ _ _ _

______He opens the door and I follow him into the dark confines of the apartment. Even though it’s overcast outside, my eyes still have a hard time adjusting. However, Jean quickly flips the light switch and I realize I’ve blindly groped my way into the living room of his apartment._ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s small; much smaller than I expected. I have to keep myself from frowning sadly at that fact. The low drop ceiling is littered with water stains and the only furniture in the room is a dingy couch, an even dingier looking love seat, and a shelf that holds various items that look like they belong to Jean, which has an ancient looking TV sitting atop it._ _ _ _ _ _

______I think I understand now why he wasn’t as excited to go home as I expected him to be. This isn’t much of a home at all. But I guess if his father passed away when he was a child and his mother has been suffering from mental illness, this is the best they could afford._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jean shuffles into the kitchen and opens the fridge, glowering at the few old items that remain._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shit, I never cleaned this out before I left. Hand me a garbage bag from under the sink.” He commands. I enter the spotless but microscopic kitchen, so small that my hip is pressed against Jean’s as I search for a trash bag in the lower cabinet. After I hand it to him and he dumps the entire contents of the fridge into it, he starts heading for the front door again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Uh-uh, no way. I’ll take care of it.” I assure him, snatching the bag from his hand and shooing him towards the living room. He sighs but doesn’t argue._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ve got to get the rest of your things from the car anyway.” I add before I swiftly pass through the doorway. I think I heard him faintly ask me to hurry back as I rush down the steps two at a time, but I can’t be sure. I hurry anyway though because to be honest I don’t like spending any more time away from him than I have to._ _ _ _ _ _

______By the time I’ve gotten all of his things into the apartment and locked up my car, he’s already curled up on the couch. I can feel his eyes on me as I start putting away the groceries that I got on the way home. The cabinets are almost bare, but they’re moderately full once I’ve finished stocking them with all of the healthy foods I got for him. I just hope he actually eats them. Jean’s so thin that I feel like I could break him if I were to hug him too tightly. He really shouldn’t be all on his own…_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you keep this in the fridge or the cabinet?” I ask him, holding up a loaf of whole grain bread._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Who the hell refrigerates bread?” He answers with a question of his own. I laugh and set it next to the rice and pasta._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Some people do. My grandma does.” I chuckle, earning an amused look from him. Once I’m done putting away all the food, I return to the other items that I left by the door._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Should I put the rest of your things in your room?” I ask, secretly excited to see what his room looks like. I bet the walls are covered in posters of all those bands he loves and his window’s light is blocked by shades. That kind of almost childish darkness is part of his personality._ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re standing in it.” Jean says quietly, avoiding my gaze at all costs. Once I realize what he means, he looks extremely small sitting there all alone on the couch, or should I say ‘his bed.’ The living room _is _his room. The ashamed look on his face says it all, and upon closer inspection I realize that there are only two doors in this apartment. And if one goes to the bathroom, then the other must be his mom’s room.__

________“Oh okay, I’ll just set them in the corner here.” I say, moving everything over by the solitary window to the right of the couch. Jeez, I would never say it out loud, but I have no idea how Jean has been affording his stay in the hospital, or how he’s going to pay for his upcoming outpatient treatment. It’s obvious by his living space that he and his mother have been hurting financially since before he was admitted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Once I’ve set everything down I turn and take a long look at Jean. He looks absolutely miserable there on the couch, chin resting on his knees and eyes cast to the carpet. Sighing, I plop down next to him, leaving a healthy amount of space between us that suddenly seems gaping when he turns his sad gaze in my direction._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What’s on your mind? You’ve been down all day.” I inquire, feeling myself sink a bit into the old, worn-in couch. I wonder how long Jean’s been sleeping on this thing. At least it feels fairly comfortable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is it that obvious?” He asks, offering me a half-smile that doesn’t even try to reach his eyes. I nod silently and he lets out a long breath through his lips as if he’s releasing imaginary cigarette smoke. “It’s dumb, but I guess I’m just bummed about coming back home because I know it’s going to be so lonely here.” He admits softly, letting his eyes search the room like he’ll find something along the walls that will fill the hole that being in this place has cleaved in him. I watch his face curiously, my mind whirling with options of assuring words that I could tell him. But I know none of them will work on Jean. I’ve been around him long enough to know that if I want to wipe that frown off his face I’ll need to take action, not just offer kind words._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Would it help if I stayed here tonight? To help you adjust to being back…” I trail off, my conscience refusing to let me ignore the fact that my idea is not only for Jean’s benefit. I can already feel my heart speed up eagerly at the thought of being able to spend the night with him. Luckily, a real smile comes onto Jean’s face finally and he beams at me from across the couch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah…that’d help a lot, if you don’t mind.” He stutters a bit and I can easily guess what’s on his mind by the way he hesitates. Both of us are thinking about that almost-kiss and it practically aches to think about it at this point. I want to just talk about it and apologize for freaking out and leaving so quickly after it happened. I panicked. But how could we possibly talk about it? It’s not something I can just mention casually as if it’s not a monumental event between us._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But he wants me to stay. That’s a good sign right?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Of course I don’t mind.” I answer with a grin, finding myself looking forward to an evening with Jean a bit more than I should be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Soon we fall into easy conversation on couch, the TV droning quietly in front of us despite neither of us paying attention to it. He talks about school before he went to the hospital and I talk about my hometown Jinae. Jean misses being around people and I don’t miss much at all about home. At least here I have real friends._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Eventually at some point, after the sun has gone down, we make dinner together. No matter how much I argue, Jean insists on helping me in the kitchen. Once I give up on trying to get him to relax, I let myself enjoy the closeness of him as he stirs the spaghetti noodles while I prepare a salad for the two of us. He scoffs at the salad but doesn’t disagree when I explain that he has to eat healthy from now on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That leads to the two of us sitting at the card table and rickety stools that serve as a dining room, laughing and talking over our food. I’m glad to see Jean finally in a good mood, but there’s still something hiding behind his smile that I’ve yet to identify. By the time we’ve finished eating and returned to the couch, I’m burning with curiosity and concern._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Want to watch a movie? I have a bunch now thanks to Ymir.” Jean says with a chuckle. I nod and get up to go over to his bags and grab the DVDs that she gave him. I also take Krista’s blanket since I’m over there and hand it to Jean when I sit back down. There’s no heat in this apartment and now that the sun is long set, cold is seeping through the walls._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Once we’ve picked a movie and turned out the lights, Jean and I make ourselves comfortable underneath the rainbow afghan, making quick business about completely ignoring the movie and returning to talking to each other. But at one point there is a brief silence between us, and I utilize it to finally get to the bottom of things._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So you still seem like something’s bothering you.” I blurt out without a semblance of tactfulness. But I’m sure Jean’s used to my awkwardness by now. He doesn’t seem surprised as he simply averts his eyes from the screen and sighs slightly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What makes you say that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I can just tell with you.” I say, earning a nod of understanding from him. For once he actually seems to be thinking about what he says before he says it. I can sense the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to word things. And when he finally speaks, his sentences are jerky and halting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Sorry. It’s just that, now that I’m here I’m just…I’m remembering a lot of things from before I went to the hospital…Stuff that happened with my family.” He admits with a frown, seeming to be having difficulty looking me in the eye._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What happened with your family?” I ask, wondering if I’ll finally find be told the tale that I’ve only heard bits and pieces of up until now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s a long story.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’ve got all night.” I reply, earning a small grin from him that shines in the flickering light of the television. He agrees and switches to a more comfortable position, one in which his knee is very noticeably touching mine. And then he begins his story, starting all the way back when he was ten years old._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________I’m mostly silent while Jean explains the first part, simply listening to what he has to say. I’m a bit taken aback by the lack of emotion in his voice while he describes the automobile accident he was in that killed his father. But I suppose a wound that old must have hardened enough by now not to urge him to tears every time it’s brought up. The only time his voice wavers is when he describes his dad’s face, the crushed, bloodied, fragmented face that he found himself unable to look away from for the whole half hour it took for a passerby to even notice there had been an accident on the remote road they were on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When I ask him what his dad was like before the unfortunate event, Jean smiles immediately._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“He was awesome. I mean, I was kid so he may as well have been Superman to me. But he really was a great guy.” His voice is wistful and solemn at the same time. “He’d always have time for me and he’d take me everywhere and no matter what he’d always make it fun. Like he’d take me grocery shopping or something lame like that but we’d pretend we were spies or ninjas and stuff.” He says with a distant chuckle._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“My mom was great back then too, but...” Jean adds a bit more darkly, insinuating that she didn’t stay that way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But?” I ask, watching his face closely. It’s obvious his mother is the much more painful portion of his past._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But she got really depressed after he died. I can’t really blame her, because I’d be depressed too if I lost my husband. But I don’t know…it was really hard for me too after that but she didn’t try to help me through it at all. Because of suddenly being a single income family we had to move here into the city and I had to switch schools. So I didn’t know anyone and she ignored me too. When she wasn’t working she just hid in her room and locked the door.” He sighs for a moment before continuing, his breath shaky._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I found out much later that…that she was hurting herself and doing drugs in there. That’s why she wouldn’t come out or let me in.” His voice is becoming strained and he swallows twice. “One time, when I was fourteen or something, I thought she wasn’t home and I went into her room to borrow a hairbrush and she…she was…” Jean’s voice catches and I feel my heart shatter for him as tears threaten to escape his eyes. Ignoring boundaries, I set my hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to do short of pulling him into my arms. He hangs his head and wipes his face on his sleeve just they start to overflow, trying to catch the tears as they escape. After he sniffs a few times, he looks back up and tries to continue._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“She was um…cutting herself.” The last two words are spoken at a whisper and his breathing has sped up slightly. He changes position so that he’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. I take that opportunity to run my hand along his back. I always find myself rubbing his back whenever he’s upset about something and I’m not sure why. I’m not sure when it became a habit, but it seems to help at least a little bit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Staring at Jean, I wonder how he’s been shouldering all this weight on his own for so long. Having cancer is bad enough, but with all the other things that have happened in his life, I can’t imagine how he’s kept such high morale. Although, from what Francesca has told me, before I came along he really didn’t have any morale at all. It makes me feel good to know that I’ve at least helped him through this a little bit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.” I say quietly, scooting closer to Jean so that our legs are touching again while still rubbing his back. He shakes his head and finally looks at me again with bloodshot eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“No, I can’t remember the last time I talked about it. Sometimes I just need to get it off my chest, you know?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I understand,” I say with a nod. “So what happened after that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“She just screamed at me to get out and then everything pretty much stayed the same as it was until my junior year. That’s when I had to get that job at Maria’s to start helping with rent because she was missing work so much, saying she was sick all the time even though she wasn’t. It was harder in the spring because of track, but I made it work. Coach Smith was really understanding with everything and let me miss practice sometimes for work.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Then right towards the end of the school year I got what I thought was the flu. But after it didn’t go away for a month I took myself to the hospital to get checked out and yeah, you know the rest of that part.” He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a moment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“After I was diagnosed they tried doing outpatient radiation for a little while, so I was still here with my mom for a few weeks. She was just out of her mind during that time. She was crying constantly and she kept saying how she was losing me too and soon she’d have nobody left. Which you know, made me feel fucking fantastic. I could tell something was off with her more than usual, but I didn’t figure out until later that she got herself hooked on some type of prescription narcotics.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But anyway, after my doctor realized I was in worse shape than he thought, I was put in the hospital. And before I was even in there a full day I had a social worker coming in my room to tell me that my mom tried to kill herself by overdosing and that they were admitting her into a mental institution…And now here we are.” He says with a resigned shrug._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“So you haven’t seen her since you went into the hospital?” I ask, my hand stilling on his upper back. He shakes his head, a look of anger sparking momentarily on his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Nope. And remember that one day when I was upset because they called and told me that she tried to commit suicide again? The bitch on the phone tried to make me feel bad for not wanting to visit, like I’m the asshole. I barely know her, so there’s no point in going to see her.” He complains bitterly. I lean closer to him slightly, slowly but surely obliterating the safe distance I’ve been keeping myself at the past week and a half._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It might make her happy to see you and know how you’re doing. She might need the reassurance.” I say. Jean scoffs and rubs his eyes and nose again on his sleeve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, I can’t name one time when she offered me ‘reassurance’ on anything. I care about her enough that I don’t want her going and dying. But I’m still working on the whole forgiving part. It’ll be a while before you find me visiting her.” He says. I nod silently in understanding. Normally I’d insist that he try to look at the situation in a different way and try seeing it from her point of view. But it’s hard for me not to be angry with her as well. She chose addiction over her own son, leaving him to fend for himself all throughout his adolescent and teenage years. And then instead of being there for him when the cancer hit, when he needed her most, she tried to take the easy way out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That strikes a wrong chord with me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But the fact that Jean has pretty much raised himself without parents and has become the man he is today is surprising and impressive. He’s more capable than he thinks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You’re very strong.” I say quietly. He chuckles bitterly and leans his head back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Thanks. But sometimes I feel so damn weak.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well that’s why you have me to help you when you feel like that.” I offer with a smile. He cheers up a bit with that and leans back into the couch, forcing me to remove my hand from his back. However, when I set it on my knee he places his hand casually overtop of it, his facial expression unchanging as if nothing happened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“True. And speaking of you, I want to hear about you now. I’ve been spilling my guts for how long? It’s your turn.” Jean swiftly changes the subject. I’m sure he notices the way my face is blazing at the way his hand is on mine, but he chooses not to let on that he sees._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What do you want to know about me? I don’t really have a story like you do.” I ask quietly. Whatever I tell him now will sound ridiculously pedestrian compared to the tale he told me. He thinks for a moment, his eyes looking to the ceiling briefly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Well I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been kind of curious about what’s going on between you and your dad.” He says abruptly. My first instinct is to say nothing is going on, that everything is fine. But then I stop myself, because that’s what I’ve always done. If Jean feels comfortable enough to tell me his problems, then I should tell him mine right? Besides Nac, he’d be the only person I’m telling about it. I suppose now is as good a time as any._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“All right…” I let my breath out in a whoosh of air. “Basically he’s a cardiologist and he expects me to be a doctor like him someday. So my whole life I haven’t really done much other than school because he’s been so anal about my grades being perfect. And we don’t get along very well because of it.” I explain softly. So maybe that wasn’t all the detail of it, but that wasn’t so bad. It actually felt a little good to say that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is he nag-you-twenty-four-seven anal or beat-you-with-a-belt-for-getting-a-B anal?” Jean asks suddenly with a raised eyebrow. Well, I wasn’t going to say anything about the abuse but I guess I have to now. I feel my stomach drop at the thought of admitting what really goes on in the Bodt household, but I know I can’t lie to Jean. And I guess I do really need to get it off my chest. I just hope he understands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Er…he doesn’t use a belt.” I answer timidly, causing Jean’s hand to tighten around mine. I simply can’t look at his face because I’m so ashamed and embarrassed at what I just disclosed to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Wait, but he actually hurts you? I was just fucking joking. Are you serious?” Jean asks, his voice sharp with concern while he sits up suddenly. I can’t find it in me to answer him. All of the sudden I feel like hiding away from Jean’s gaze, which I can feel piercing into me even though I’m staring at the green stripe of blanket over my lap. My heart is racing and I feel as if I have to start taking deeper breaths to get enough air into my lungs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Marco, answer me.” Jean demands, panic and frustration ringing through his voice. “Please.” He adds, a bit softer. I finally find the courage to look at him and his eyes are wide and his mouth is set in a thin line, his eyebrows pulled together in worry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, he does.” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. Jean just stares at me for a long time, looking absolutely horrified. I hold his gaze as long as I can but I find myself looking away again out of shame._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Dude, you have to tell someone.” He says eventually. I shake my head and run my free hand through my hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“There’s no point now. I’ll be out of there in less than a year.” I say softly. When Jean speaks, the anger in his voice catches me off guard._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, to do what? Go to fucking med school? You don’t even want to be a doctor. But he’s forcing you to. Something needs to be done Marco.” He practically yells, that intensity in his eyes shifting to fury. This isn’t that grumbly, annoyed anger that Jean usually displays. He’s enraged, and his hand feels like it might break mine with how tightly he’s unconsciously holding it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’ll figure it out when the time comes but for now I really need to just keep things the way they are. I turn eighteen in June so it’s not too much longer now.” I assure him. He huffs in frustration._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But what about right now?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Right now I’m with you.” I say, giving him a smile that I hope will smooth the crease in his brow. He opens his mouth to argue but then just exhales instead. Calming down, he sighs and returns to leaning his head on the back of the couch, turning it to look at me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You should just stay here.” He says softly. I chuckle at that, wishing it were that easy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I should, but I doubt that’d go over well with my parents.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Fuck your parents.” Jean retorts immediately. I guess I should have expected that from him. But unlike Jean, I don’t have the ability to cast people from my life like he does. I can’t just steel myself up like that and keep my guilt at bay._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s not that simple.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I know it’s not. I just wish it was.” Jean says before opening his mouth for a long yawn. I take notice of the way his grip on my hand has loosened and his eyelids are starting to droop._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Are you tired?” I ask. He nods and closes his eyes for a brief moment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m always tired man.” He answers, resignation in his tone. When I ask if he wants to go to sleep, he says he probably should and reaches over for a pillow from the edge of the couch. Before I can even ask if I should move out of his way, he plops the pillow right onto my lap and lies his head on it, taking me by surprise. Stretching out his legs, he pulls his portion of the blanket over his body and settles in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Are you comfortable?” I ask, looking down at him. He’s lying on his side, facing the TV. But he turns his head to look up at me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Very. When you want to go to sleep just shake me awake and tell me to move my ass over.” He says with a lazy smile. I nod even though there’s no way I’d actually do that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“All right. I hope you sleep well.” I say softly, grinning down at him. He closes his eyes and rolls over onto his stomach, his face resting sideways on his forearms, facing the TV again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You too…but can you do me a favor?” Jean asks, his voice suddenly sounding unnerved. After I answer with a quiet ‘mm-hm’, he continues. “Would you mind rubbing my back a little? It’s dumb but it just feels nice whenever you do it…Sorry if that’s weird.” I can’t tell if he’s blushing or it’s just the ever-changing light from the movie playing with my eyes. I’m surprised he’d ask something like this after what happened after the party, but I suppose he’s over it by now. And if I really think about it, I think I’m over it too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s not.” I assure him while snaking my hand underneath the blanket and my jacket that he’s still wearing. Satisfied with just his t-shirt between my skin and his, I rub his back in my usual, delicate way. I can feel his muscles relax under my touch as he settles down._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Thanks,” He breathes quietly, reaching up and adjusting his hat so that it won’t fall off while he sleeps. Although I kind of hope it does. “Can you do me one more favor though?” He adds, his voice sounding much more solemn._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Of course.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Can you promise that whenever things get too bad with your dad you’ll come here?” Jean asks, sounding so small and desperate that it almost hurts to hear him say it. He’s still staring blankly at the TV, but I can tell he’s not really looking at it. Despite the pain in his tone, I can’t help but grin slightly at the way he worries about me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, I promise.” I answer softly, resisting the urge to lay my hand against his cheek._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Thank you.” He says, paired with a sigh of relief. “Well goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________And now it’s time for me to overthink everything while Jean slowly slips into a comfortable slumber on my lap. I lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes, barely seeing the flashes of light pushing their way through my lids from the movie. He’s warm below me and I continue to rub his back, taking note of the way his breaths are slowly deepening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Thinking in my usual, logical way, I start asking myself questions. _Why am I here right now? _Well I’m here because Jean would be alone if I left. But it’s also more than that. I want to be here. So that leads me to the next question.__

_Why do I want to be here? _This one is easy too. I want to be here because I care about Jean. But this is the tough one.__

_Why do I care about Jean so much? ___

______________I care about him because he’s my best friend, even if we haven’t actually known each other that long. And I care about him because at the time when we met, nobody else did. He needed someone…and so did I. In a way, despite how put together I always present myself to be, both of us were barely hanging on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________But there’s so much more that draws me to him besides just a mutual need for companionship. There are so many things about him that just make me so…happy. It’s the way his instantaneous subject changes and mood switches keep me on my toes when we talk, as if he’s giving me a small glimpse of all the different, clashing things that go on in his mind at the same time. And it’s the way he tries to keep the image of an uncaring exterior but each and every time I’m with him he unfurls just a bit more, letting me peer momentarily at the attentiveness inside that he so desperately tries to hide._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________And God…the way he looks at me sometimes just makes me diffuse right then and there. Often I have to remind myself to actually pay attention to what he’s saying and not just to the way his lips move while he talks. I feel like his gaze alone completely disrobes me of my calm veneer, leaving my burning emotions and intentions exposed for him to pick through at his leisure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Not that I even know what my emotions and intentions are these days anyway. I open my eyes and look down at Jean who is most definitely unconscious by now. His mouth is slightly parted and once in a while his eyes move underneath his lids. The word ‘angelic’ comes to mind, as if I’m a mother looking down at her sleeping child. He looks _perfect _.________________

______________And then I realize…the feelings I'm having are just as malignant as the sickness coursing through Jean's vessels. They're spreading rapidly, faster than I can keep track of, and it's a dangerous game for the both of us. No matter how much I may want to say it isn’t so, I can’t logically ignore all the facts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean makes me feel alive, something that I never really experienced before him. And all I want to do, _all I ever think about _, is being with him.__

But just being here, lazily running my hand up and down his spine while he dozes isn’t enough for me. As much as I love spending time with him there’s always that nagging in the back of my mind, asking…no, _begging _for something more with him.__

__________________I want to be with him in the way that Nac teases me about. I want to be with him in the way that most of our world frowns upon. I want to be with him in the way that will most likely break both of our hearts because as much as I want to convince myself that he’s on the fast track to being healthy again, there’s still a massive, looming possibility of losing him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Just the thought of that makes my eyes start to water and my throat become hot and tight with unshed tears. I know what I want now, but I don’t know what to do about it. Looking at the smooth, pale skin of Jean’s cheek, I wonder if I should risk it. Should I run the chance of becoming too close that if he passes away, I won’t be able to handle it? Should I risk hurting him if I find myself realizing later on that I’m not attracted to him in the way I thought? And if we do end up together, what kind of suffering will being a gay couple bring onto us?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________I’m thinking so much and trying so hard to hold back tears that my head is hurting. So after wiping my eyes and taking a few deep breaths, I decide to lie down. As gently as I can, I lift Jean’s head so that I can remove my legs from underneath him. Then I slot myself carefully between him and the back of the couch, pulling the blanket over the two of us. I panic for a second as Jean begins to stir, afraid that I woke him up. But without opening his eyes for a single moment he turns so that he’s facing me and nestles himself up against my body, lying his head on my upper arm, exhaling lightly once he’s comfortable again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________I’m frozen momentarily as I stare at his face so close to mine, but then I start to grin to myself when I notice that in the process of changing position, his hat almost fell off. It’s barely covering his head now, and I feel like I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t be but have desperately wanted to see for a long time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________So I allow myself a shameless moment of weakness and I reach over with my free hand and tug at the gray fabric until it completely falls off, revealing his bald head. And then I lightly run my fingers over the smooth skin of his scalp, eventually tracing around his ear and along his chin and back up to his cheek. He looks so elegant with his pointed features and angular edges. Jean is refined._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jean is beautiful._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________A yawn overtakes me and let my eyes fall closed, my head relaxing into the pillow resting against the arm of the couch. Maybe I should just worry about all that stuff tomorrow or some other day. Right now I just want to enjoy my time with him until I fall asleep. So I sigh contentedly and drape my arm over his waist, settling in for the night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________I fall asleep with a smile on my face, holding Jean close to me as we dream side by side on the couch, snug under the rainbow blanket that practically drapes us in the truth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all hate me now and I'm sorry, but I hope since this chapter is significantly longer than the past ones that you will perhaps consider forgiveness? I'm really sorry :(
> 
> Also, if you have questions about the other stories I'm working on or you want to let me know which one I should post first after finishing this one, leave me a comment.
> 
> Or you can always just tell me that I'm the worst lol, I totally deserve it for ditching you guys :p


	11. Wretches and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I did it again. And I made you all wait even longer this time and I'm so sorry! :( I'm sure you're all sick and tired of all the excuses so I'll keep it short and sweet this time. I moved, I had marching band camp, classes started up again, and I was making a manga. Oh and also, I suck.
> 
> Side note, I had a question posed to me a little bit ago about a tumblr for this story and I wasn't really sure how to answer. Because I tired making a tumblr for it but I'm the absolute worst with computers and I have no idea how tumblr works or what it even is really. So any advice?
> 
> Anyway, Marco is absolutely adorable, his dad is a doucher, and stands are taken.

JEAN’S POV:

The immediate thing I notice when I wake up is the smell. Or _smells _I should say. The first is that of home. The scent of my apartment alerts me of my whereabouts before I even bother opening my eyes. It’s the over-scented detergent from the laundromat down the street sticking in my pillow cover mixed with the faint twinge of mold that I know for a fact is growing in our water-damaged ceiling. Yum.__

The second smell is a smooth one that has wrapped itself around me, conveying a sense of warmth to my body and contrasting greatly from the first. It’s even more familiar than that of my apartment, and I’m just realizing now that it sort of smells like cherries with an ashen crisp added to it, like the musk of fallen autumn leaves. The scent itself makes me feel like when I open my eyes everything will be sepia toned, with edges softened and light dampened. And it’s almost as if I can feel it holding me…

When I finally open my eyes I see that I actually _am _being held. My nose is pressed up against a green t-shirt, meeting the sternum of Marco’s broad chest. Motionlessly taking stock of my whole body, I feel that my head is resting on his firm upper-arm and my hands are clutched lightly onto the front of his shirt. His other arm is draped over my side, his hand unconsciously resting so low on my back that I have to resist the instinct to blush.__

Our bodies are so close I can feel his steady breaths against me. I can tell he’s sleeping even though I haven’t looked at his face yet. I’m wracking my mind, but for the life of me I cannot remember how I got into this position with him. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly last night because I was so tired, but I distinctly remember dozing off to the feeling of his hand on my back, my head resting on a pillow on his lap.

So that must mean that Marco initiated this contact himself at some point after I fell asleep. That’s genuinely surprising, but hey I’m not complaining. It feels absolutely amazing to have his arms around me in this way, so close I can feel his heartbeat against my face, strong and unyielding. Since I woke up I haven’t thought once about the aches and pains that flood through my bones in the mornings. My stomach is fluttering uncontrollably at the sensation of finally getting some of the contact that I’ve been yearning for from Marco. So what if he’s not actually conscious?

As if on cue, I feel Marco start to stir quietly, a cute little groan of exhaustion escaping his mouth. I tilt my head up to look at him and I can’t help but smile at his messy bed-head and the yawn he’s currently sporting. When he closes his mouth, he eyes flicker open slowly and he looks right at me, expressionless.

That is until he realizes what (and who) he’s actually looking at.

He snaps his eyes open fully and gapes at me in what could either surprise or total horror. I tense up in his grasp and think for the first time this morning that maybe us lying together like this isn’t such a good thing after all. How long did it take for Marco to finally stop being awkward as shit around me after we almost kissed? I don’t want to have to go through all that again. It hurt to see the reflexive caution in his eyes every time I got too close or said something too personal. I think it was hard for the both of us, since he was no doubt trying to figure out what the hell even happened. 

So I’m sort of panicking now, imagining that he’s moments away from leaping up and running out of my apartment.

But the amazing thing is instead of flipping out or pushing me away, Marco’s tension fades after a moment and he simply re-shuts his eyes and lets his head sink back into the pillow, all the while pulling me slightly closer to him with the hand on my lower back. A shiver shoots down my spine at the gesture and I stare at his face in wonder as my heart kicks into high gear.

“Good morning.” Marco mumbles groggily, his voice hoarse from just waking up. I swear to God I could just kiss him right now. He looks so innocent and adorable; especially with the little half-smile that’s now beginning to form on his lips.

“Good morning…” I practically squeak, trailing off haltingly as I try to figure out how to voice what I want to say. I can feel a blush starting the heat up my face as I try to keep myself from blurting out what’s on my mind. It doesn’t work. 

“Is this…okay?” I stutter hopelessly, almost wincing at the way Marco slits his eyelids and peers down at me, his gaze bright with intelligence and understanding even now when he’s just barely woken up. He opens his mouth to speak but instead it blossoms into another yawn that stretches his perfect lips and pulls down his freckles slightly. Jesus, he’s so fucking cute.

“Mm-hm,” He mumbles finally. Then he removes his arm from my side to stretch it behind his head momentarily. “Is it okay with you?” he asks, amazingly mellow compared to me this morning. Fuck yeah it’s okay!

“Yeah.” I answer a lot calmer than I did in my head, releasing my grip on his shirt and instead letting my palms rest flat against his chest. He just looks at me silently for a few seconds and then erupts into a big, toothy smile.

“What?”

“It’s nice to see you without your hat on for once.” Marco admits softly. _Shit! _Panic and embarrassment overtake me immediately and I reach my hands up to cover my completely hairless scalp.__

“What the hell?!” I complain, frowning at him. He just keeps on smiling though.

“Mm, I can still see it.” He teases, tapping a finger lightly on a spot I wasn’t able to cover with my splayed out fingers. Huffing in frustration, I scoot myself down until I’m completely covered by the blanket, my head in line with Marco’s abdomen. 

“Awe, come out of there. I like it!” I hear him insist, his hands coming down to try tickling at my sides.

“No! Where’s my damn hat?” I argue, pressing my face into his notably firm stomach and trying to keep myself from laughing.

“If you let me get one more good look I’ll let you have your hat.” Marco’s muffled voice teases from outside the blanket. I don’t answer, opting to simply scowl up at him when he lifts the blanket slightly and light shines on my face.

“Asshole.” I insult him lightheartedly as he peers into my little makeshift cave.

“You look so cute in there.” Marco says happily, catching me off guard with the easy tone he says it in. I don’t know how to answer that at all, so I decide the best course of action would be to take advantage of my current position. Swiftly pulling up the bottom of Marco’s shirt, I press my mouth to the skin right above his belly button and blow a giant raspberry on his stomach.

“Jean!” He screeches as he jerks and quickly pushes me off of him. We both sit up immediately and look at him, realizing that he’s not laughing. At all.

Shit. Fuck. I went too far screwed it up again. And he’s going to be awkward for the next week again and we’re both going to feel like shit and everything is going to suck. He’s currently staring at me with a look that appears to me like a mix of hurt and embarrassment. 

“Shit man, I’m sorry. That was too much.” I apologize softly, feeling my shoulders hunch as fresh regret and guilt weigh down on me. I keep pushing it too far with him. Why can’t I fucking control myself?

“No, no. I’m sorry…it’s not your fault.” Marco replies, slightly hanging his head.

“No it totally is my fault. I always do shit that makes you uncomfortable and I fuck things up.” I start to babble. “And I don’t realize it until it’s too late and then we both feel like shit when really the whole thing is just me being a dumbass and–“ Marco cuts me off with a wave of his hands.

“No, no, no! You’re not understanding. You don’t make me uncomfortable or anything like that. I just um…I didn’t want you to see my stomach.” He explains, looking like at any moment he’s going to implode. I think he’s actually sweating. I raise an eyebrow at him cautiously. I didn’t see it before because I was under the darkness of the blanket.

“Why not?” I ask softly, scared I’ll startle him if I speak too loudly. He visibly winces, as if he was expecting me to ask that but was really hoping I wouldn’t. Instead of answering, he slowly lifts his shirt up until it’s only covering the top half of his chest.

Bruises. Tons of them. Suddenly I realize how fucking stupid I am. He just confided in me last night that his dad beats him. If I hadn’t noticed any marks on his face or arms by this point, where else would they be? I let my gaze scan his abdomen for a few moments, noticing how quickly it rises and falls with his frantic breaths. Then I risk a look at his face. His eyes are cast to the floor and his head is turned to the side as if he can’t bear to see how I’m looking at him.

“Marco…” I breathe, at a complete loss for words. I can’t tell him it’ll be okay, because these vicious, dark, painful looking stains lying underneath his otherwise perfect, freckle-laden skin are not okay by any means. There’s nothing I can say that could make this better.

So instead of saying something dumb that would undoubtedly make him feel worse than he already does, I simply reach forward and rest my hand as gently as I can against the plain of his skin, just above his bellybutton again. Marco is motionless but his eyes flit back to me, watching me watch him as I begin to trail my fingers lightly over the bruises. 

In a weird sense I hope that I can take some of the pain away with the simple touch. At some point Marco closes his eyes, the hurt creases in his brow beginning to fade. What I’d do to be able to kiss him right now. I’d kiss every single scar and mark better. In fact, I’d kiss every inch of him if it’d take away even an ounce of his pain.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper as my fingertips brush over the last of the bruises that are visible to me right now. “Is this okay?” I ask, finally getting him to turn his face and look at me head on.

“Mm-hm…Is it okay with you?” He asks, clearly referring to the fact that I’m touching him. But as I glance back down at his damaged body and then back up at his innocent, terrified, perfect face, I can’t help but feel anger. Marco doesn’t deserve this. He deserves to live how he wants without fear of being punished for it. He deserves to have his body cherished and only touched in the gentlest of manners. Marco deserves to be loved.

“No. _This _isn’t okay at all.”__

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You’re joking right? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not exactly the kind of guy who’s good at keeping his opinions to himself.” I say incredulously before taking an annoyed bite of my sandwich. Marco, being the dork he is, packed a picnic for the two of us and dragged me to some park on the nice side of town. So here we are in the middle of a field of grass, the only other few brave souls out here being a few older people walking their dogs. It’s embarrassingly sweet to be sitting here on a blanket with him, watching him take lazy sips of hot chocolate and look up at the sky periodically.

However, he just asked me if I want to go to his house for dinner tonight. He must be out of his mind. All I’d do is flip out on his dad and end up getting Marco in deeper shit.

“My dad isn’t home. He’s at a doctors’ conference out of state this weekend and he’s not coming back until tomorrow. I wouldn’t have been able to stay over last night if he was home.” Marco explains. Okay, that’s a little better. But still, I can’t remember the last time I was as furious with anything as I am with his home situation. I can’t just keep myself calm for the sake of avoiding confrontation like Marco can.

“Is your mom cool?” I ask. He hesitates, thinking about it for a moment.

“She tries her best…You’ll like her.” He assures me, offering me a tiny smile. I guess I do owe him for causing that awkward situation this morning and upsetting him. Thank goodness he cheered up once we started making breakfast. Actually, he ended up being the one having to turn my frown upside down, instead of vice versa like it should have been. But I can’t help it. Things like that upset me.

Okay, pretty much everything upsets me. 

“All right, I’ll go.” I give in, letting myself take joy in the expression that pops onto his face. Sometimes I wonder how Marco can possibly be so cute. He’s wearing a blue, long-sleeve sweatshirt that I loaned him this morning before we left my apartment. It’d be big on me now, but it fits him perfectly. I’ll probably just end up telling him he can keep it because of how much better it looks on him. It’s one of my old ratty looking ones, but it’s nice to see Marco looking a little less prim and proper for once. He actually looks comfortable.

“Thank you.” Marco says, the quietness in his voice very sudden. I watch him for a moment to try gauging what he’s feeling. He’s sitting with his knees up, elbows resting on them and arms outstretched lazily in front of him. His eyes don’t seem to be focused on anything in particular, but instead he’s just staring out over the park as a whole. He looks content.

It makes me wish I wasn’t sitting all the way on the other side of the blanket. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about this morning.” I offer timidly, folding my knees up and tucking my chin in between them. Marco doesn’t move or change expression whatsoever. I’m starting to doubt that he even heard me when he finally responds. 

“Me too.”

“No, you don’t have anything to be sorry about Marco.” I assure him, really having to fight the urge to go over and sit closer to him now. He just sighs and then looks over at me, a surprisingly sad smile on his lips.

“We were having a good morning though.” He argues, immediately bringing what I know is a bright red blush to my face. We _were _having a pretty great morning. And that was definitely the most relaxed and physical I’ve ever seen Marco be with me before…You know, before I fucked it up.__

“Y-yeah, I guess we were.” Shit, what do I even say to that? “We could always have more…though.” Okay, definitely not that! Jean, what the hell!? I feel my face grow even hotter and redder and I resist the urge to bury it in my knees. Marco just stares at me for a moment before starting to chuckle to himself. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He says, sporting a grand smile. I’m in the middle of drinking it in when the damn sun decides to randomly peak out from behind the cloud cover for the first time today to temporarily blind me. I raise my hand up to block it, shutting my eyes and cursing under my breath, but suddenly feel Marco’s gentle grip on my wrist.

“Hold on, put your hand down.” He demands, his voice almost down to a whisper. I frown and reopen my eyes, having to blink a few times to adjust to the sun in my vision. Marco’s kneeling in front me now, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist, which I have dropped down to the blanket now. His eyes are earnest as he leans forward, looking at my face as if he’s never seen it before.

“What?” I ask, a little caught off guard but curious at the same time. Marco takes a few moments to answer, still staring at me as I squint back at him with concern.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen you in the sun before.” He says embarrassedly, releasing my wrist and sitting back on his heels. I raise an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out what he means. Then I realize that I guess he’s right. In the hospital room there never really was any sun, except in the mornings when it woke me up through the damn window. But he was never there in the mornings. 

I bark a laugh, bringing a look of surprise to Marco’s face.

“So that’s your plan, huh? Trying to make me get even more cancer?” I accuse him jokingly, making him roll his eyes.

“Oh shut up!” He laughs with me, hitting me lightly on the arm. And just like that, the sun disappears back behind the clouds. We both look up, and I actually find myself missing it. Not because I like having bright-ass light in my eyes, but because I loved the way Marco looked at me when it was out. He had that slight hint of a smile he gets when he’s deep in thought and doesn’t realize it’s leaking out. I just wonder what he was thinking about me…

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So I knew Marco’s dad was a doctor, which must mean that they’re well off. But I can’t say I was expecting the Bodt house to be this fancy. As we trek up the long, cobblestone walkway (yeah, they have a goddamn walkway), Marco chatters on nervously about how he hopes I like his mom and his house. Meanwhile, I just stare at the front of his home in awe. Tall, white columns separate the wraparound porch. Fucking _columns _, like this is ancient Greece or some shit. I shove my hands deep in my pockets, feeling a bit small in a place like this. I don’t belong here.__

“You okay?” Marco suddenly asks as we scale the stairs up to the double doors decorated with intricately detailed stained glass windows. I swallow and nod, giving him a total bullshit smile.

“Yeah. You guys are just…really fucking rich.” I admit truthfully. Marco frowns, glancing around the expansive porch we’re standing in. “I guess I just feel a little out of place.” I continue, hoping he’ll understand. And he does, completely.

“Yeah, so do I most of the time.” He answers with a small, sad smile. Then he pats me on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it though. Let’s go inside.”

If I thought the outside was fancy, the inside is the damn Taj Mahal. Marco opens the door and ushers me into a towering foyer with a skylight at the top, the walls lined with what’s probably priceless artwork. The floors are rich, hardwood paneling, the kind that I’d be afraid to walk on with my shoes still on.

I’m about to ask Marco if I should take them off when I hear the clacking of high heels coming for us from another room. Marco shuts the door behind us and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, as if he can tell I’m suddenly nervous.

“Jean! It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Says Marco’s mother graciously as she rounds the corner and enters the foyer. She’s a short woman, or at least she would be if she weren’t wearing those monstrous beige heels. She probably just does it to compensate for her height though. She’s got long, dark hair that looks exactly the same texture as Marco’s, except maybe a tad thicker. Her most noticeable feature to me is the smattering of freckles all over her face. So now I know who to thank for Marco’s adorable ones.

“Can I hug you?” She asks cautiously, holding out her arms as she nears me. I raise an eyebrow and glance at Marco who just rolls his eyes and chuckles. Why wouldn’t she be able to hug me? Do I look like that much of a dick?

“Yeah mom, you can hug him.” Marco sighs embarrassedly. She smiles brightly and wraps me into an embrace that is surprisingly gentle for the way she came at me. I thought she looked like she was going to suffocate for a second.

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure with the whole…you know.” She gestures vaguely at my chest with her hand, smiling sadly at me. Then it clicks. _Oh yeah dumbass, you have cancer. _She must be scared to hurt me or something.__

“Oh no, don’t worry about that. It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Bodt.” I say, offering her as friendly a smile as I can muster without risking looking creepy. I’m not good at being friendly, or outgoing…or nice at all for that matter.

“Oh, you’re so polite! But you can call me Rosa. Come and sit boys! I already have dinner on the table.” She whisks us towards the ridiculously beautiful dining room. It’s got a chandelier and everything, big enough to take my breath away. Marco quickly sits in what must be his usual seat along the side of the table, facing the window. So I sit next to him on his left, eyeing the china laid out in front of me carefully. I hope to God I don’t break anything by accident.

Marco’s mom, or Rosa as I’m supposed to call her, has disappeared in the kitchen for a few moments. So Marco leans in close to me and offers some reassurance. Even a blind man could tell how much I stick out in a place like this. He can tell I’m uncomfortable.

“Please relax. She’s not judging you at all, I promise. And you know I’m not.” Marco whispers, eyeing the doorway to the kitchen. Then, to my utmost surprise, his hand slyly finds its way to my back and begins to run large, slow ovals along the middle of my spine. Immediately, without even realizing it, the tension dissipates from my body. Man, I really love when Marco rubs my back like this. It always calms me down whenever I’m getting upset or panicky. For a brief moment I let my eyes fall closed and think of falling asleep last night on his lap to the feeling of his fingers lazily massaging their way up and down my back. It was heavenly.

The moment ends as quickly as it began when Rosa reenters the room and Marco subtly slips his hand back into his lap and straightens up. When she’s turned away to open the shades on the window, I mouth a silent ‘thank you’ to Marco, which earns me a gorgeous smile in return.

Then dinner begins…And it’s actually not as torturous as I thought it’d be. Rosa is pretty funny once she gets talking about stuff that isn’t that bullshit small-talk that adults always bother with. She also has some pretty hilarious stories about Marco that leave me in stitches. She’s currently in the middle of one that even has him chuckling as well instead of cowering in embarrassment.

“–so then he goes up to the waitress, and remember he’s only five, and he asks her to marry him right then and there!” She exclaims, causing me to crack up.

“Hey, she said yes though!” Marco argues, pointing a fork at her. All three of us are laughing hysterically when I vaguely hear a small click and then a creak.

And everything stops. Instantly.

Both Marco and Rosa have gone white as ghosts, and Marco sets down his fork with a shaky hand. I can feel how cold the room has gone just by their mood change, but I don’t understand. What’s going on?

“Mom.” Marco says quietly, his voice almost down to a whisper. I can’t tell if it was a warning or a questioning tone, but she just answers with a small shake of the head and a shrug. That’s when I hear the footsteps in the foyer and realize…Marco’s dad is home. Early.

And he’s definitely not expecting to come in and see me here.

“Should I leave?” I ask Marco in an urgent whisper, ready to hop out of my chair and run at any second. Well okay, to be honest I’d probably fall over and faint if I tried running, but I’d give it a try if it meant keeping him out of trouble.

Marco’s eyes when he looks at me are like those of an animal that knows it’s being hunted. He glances in the direction of the foyer, even though it’s not visible from in here, and then back at me.

“I…I don’t¬–“ His breathy, panicked voice is cut off by a smooth, loud one from outside the room.

“Rosa, the conference ended last night because of the weather down there so I hopped on a plane this morning and…” Marco’s dad trails off as he enters the dining room and undoubtedly sees me. For a moment, however brief, I’m afraid to look at him. Maybe it’s because of the way both Marco and Rosa are just staring at their plates in motionless terror, or maybe it’s because I have nothing to associate him with other than the galaxy of bruises along Marco’s abdomen that I witnessed just this morning.

“Oh, who’s this?” He asks, surprisingly calm. He doesn’t even sound angry, but I swear I can almost feel Marco flinch next to me. And that pisses me off. That’s when I come to the conclusion that I don’t give a shit how scared they may be of this guy. I won’t let him get to me. I’ve never let anyone scare me before. Why should I now?

“Um Dad, t-this…this is…” Marco stutters just trying to introduce me. I’ve never seen Marco this nervous or flustered, even around me when we first became friends and I would mess with him all the time.

“I’m Jean, Marco’s friend.” I say politely, standing up from my seat and facing Marco’s father. I extend my hand to him and take a good look at him for the first time. He’s tall, skinny, pale, and has neatly parted, light brown hair. He pretty much looks like you’d expect a doctor to look like. He also looks nothing like Marco. The only thing Marco got from this guy was his height, and maybe the shape of his nose. Besides that, I can barely even see the resemblance. Marco got everything else from his mom.

“Jean…” He rolls my name over his tongue like he’s tasting something for the time and it’s surprisingly bitter. “Ah, you’re the one Marco met at the hospital.” We shake hands finally and then he brushes past me to go to his seat at the end of the table to Marco’s right. Marco stands before I can sit as well though, giving an awkward chuckle.

“Yep, the very same. I was actually just about to take Jean home though, so we’d better go.” He says, desperate to get out of here.

“Come on, I just got here. Besides, he still has half a plate of food left. Let the boy eat. He needs it, especially with his cancer.” His dad argues, gesturing towards my plate of food. Marco’s still has quite a bit on it as well. He has a point, and I can tell this isn’t really something Marco can argue with his dad about. We sit back down silently, Marco looking absolutely defeated as his dad begins serving himself. I start eating again, hoping that if I finish quickly then Marco will have an excuse to get us out of here.

“So Jean, what kind of cancer do you have? I don’t think Marco told me.” Mr. Bodt jumps right into it. Before I can answer, Rosa surprisingly interjects.

“Dear, I don’t think Jean wants to talk about his illness during dinner.”

“Well I’m a doctor Rosa, these things interest me. We’re all intellectuals here. I’m sure Jean doesn’t mind.” He brushes her off without so much as a second thought. He’s right, normally I wouldn’t mind. However, I can already tell he’s just bringing it up to piss me off. He’s got a glint in his expression that’s getting on my nerves.

“Acute lymphoblastic leukemia.” I answer, staring right back into his annoying-ass, beady eyes. He raises an eyebrow at that.

“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s pretty rare for someone as old as you. I’m guessing your outlook isn’t looking too good then.” He says. Well that was…really fucking rude. Most people at least try to bullshit and say they hope I’ll get better.

_“Dad.” _Marco says pointedly, looking at him in absolute disbelief. Mr. Bodt doesn’t even acknowledge that he heard him, despite the fact that he obviously did. He just continues to look at me, waiting for my answer.__

“Actually, I was just discharged from the hospital yesterday.” I reply, a small quip of satisfaction hitting me at the thought of proving him wrong. I’ll do anything to kick cancer’s ass if it means I’ll get to shove it in this guy’s face afterwards.

“I understand. A lot of patients prefer to live out their last few months at home.” He says, giving me a sad, bullshit smile. I can’t help but laugh out loud at that, taking him off guard for the first time tonight.

“Oh no, I meant I was discharged because I’m recovering. I’m doing outpatient chemotherapy now until I reach remission.” I explain, giving him what I know is a completely disarming smile. I’ve figured out what this asshole’s game is now, and I’m not going to let him think he’s winning; not for a second. He’s trying to alienate me so that I stay away from Marco. He probably thinks I’m going to get in the way of his schoolwork and his fucking “dream” of becoming a doctor. So he’s trying to make me feel like shit so I’ll never come around again when Marco asks. Too bad he has no idea just how much Marco and I have been hanging out and how close we are. Nothing would tear me away from the nervous freckled boy next to me at this point, especially not this bullshit.

“Oh, that’s good to hear then.” He says tersely, obviously annoyed that I beat him at his own game. Or maybe he’s just genuinely pissed off about the fact that I’m not dying. Either way is fine with me because I’ve already written this guy off in my head as a total dick.

“Thank you.” I say politely, shocking myself with how calm I’m remaining. The only way I’m doing it is by reminding myself that for Marco’s sake, I can’t go flipping out. If I don’t keep myself under control, I could get him in trouble and end up getting him more hurt.

“So how did you and my son become friends?” Mr. Bodt asks, changing the subject. I have a feeling he already knows, but has decided to ask because it will lead to something he will use to try making me feel like shit again. Marco is staring intently out the window in front of us, as if it’s his lifeline.

“Well we first met at a picnic for the cancer ward that he was volunteering at. But then after that we started hanging out a little whenever he’d be by volunteering at the hospital.” I leave out the fact that he’s been purposely visiting me pretty much every day since then, because I know Marco fooled his dad into thinking that he was at some afterschool activity instead of with me.

“That was nice of him,” Mr. Bodt looks at Marco for a brief moment, then back to me. “You must have been quite lonely in the hospital, Jean.” 

For a moment I falter, because he’s right. I was unbelievably lonely. It’s as if this whole time I’ve been friends with Marco, I’ve forgotten about the months before he came around, where I just lied in that hospital bed day after day and wished I would die. Comparing my life now to how it was then, I’m not even sure I how I survived. People always said it was my will that kept me alive during the tougher parts of my treatment, but I had none. I just did everything they said because I was under eighteen and I couldn’t say no without permission from my grandparents (which would have never happened).

Marco must notice my pause, because I feel a hand lay on my knee under the table. I see that he’s looking at his dad now instead of out the window.

“Dad, can we please talk about something else? This isn’t appropriate dinner conversation.” He says suddenly, the shakiness in his voice having all but vanished. I see a flash of something in Mr. Bodt’s eyes. He obviously doesn’t like when Marco speaks up like that.

“Why not? You know, you could learn a lot from Jean about patient care since he’s been in the hospital for so long. You told me a while ago you were leaning toward oncology actually, didn’t you?” He says, putting out Marco’s little flame of bravery like a bucket of water. My freckled friend just looks back out the window, his grip tightening on my knee. He looks really pissed off, but he’s too scared to do or say anything about it.

“Maybe I do understand now why you became friends with someone from the hospital. Jean here could really benefit you when it comes to firsthand information about cancer and what it’s like.”

All right, now this guy is really pissing me off. He’s blatantly trying to make it look like Marco is using our friendship to get ahead in life, which of course I know is total bullshit. But it really bothers me. Like _really _bothers me.__

“It’ll help you become more relatable as a doctor.” Mr. Bodt finishes with a wry smile. That’s the last straw. I’m so fucking sick of this guy and his goddamn head games. I’m getting so angry I feel lightheaded. This is when I lose control.

I’m sorry Marco.

“You can’t beat your son into becoming a doctor.” I say softly, trying to keep myself from screaming at the top of my lungs. Mr. Bodt’s eyes snap to me, and so do Marco’s. But I can’t look at Marco because I know he’s probably furious with me.

“Excuse me?” His dad says, glaring holes through me. I glare right back. This asshole doesn’t scare me.

“I said you can’t beat the shit out of Marco until he magically starts wanting to be a doctor. That’s not how people work.” I say, much louder and clearer this time. That’s when Mr. Bodt stands up. And hey, I may have cancer and probably weigh only about one hundred pounds at this point, but I never back down. So I stand up too, ignoring that fact that he pretty much towers over me once I’m standing in front of him.

“You cannot come into my home and act like you know anything about my family.” He growls threateningly. But I have a strong feeling that he won’t do anything. He’s a smart guy, which means he knows if he so much as lays a hand on me I’ll go right to the police and end all of this.

“I know enough. And I know that Marco isn’t happy. If you were a good dad, you’d want the best for your son.”

“What’s best for him is success.”

“What’s best for him is a choice!” I yell, all my anger exploding out. I hear a chair scrape on the floor behind me, and then feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s Marco, I know that. But I’m so fired up that I can’t seem to care right now.

“You barely even know my son! You know nothing!” Mr. Bodt bellows out, taking a step closer to me.

“He’s my best friend! I know him plenty more than you do! When’s the last time you actually talked with him about something other than school or his future? Huh?” I cry out, balling my hands into fists. I’m most likely not going to use them, but it just feels better to have them ready. 

“I’m sure with how alone you were in the hospital, it didn’t take much to become your best friend, did it? He may be your best friend, but are you his?” His dad says with a smirk. 

“Of course!” Marco and I both shout in unison without even meaning to. I can’t help but smirk back at the tall man in front of me, who looks annoyed beyond all reason.

“Come on Jean. I should get you home.” Marco softly from behind me, his hand sliding off my shoulder. My smirk shifts back into a glare, which is returned readily by Mr. Bodt. But I turn around anyway and follow Marco to the front door. As I pass Mrs. Bodt, who is still in her seat but has obviously been crying, I pause.

“Thank you for dinner Rosa…I’m sorry.” I apologize before continuing on to the foyer. Marco opens the door for me, but just before we leave I hear his dad’s voice from the dining room.

“Marco, we need to talk when you get home tonight.” His voice is threatening and heavy, but Marco just sighs.

“I know.” Is all he says before we exit the house and he shuts the door behind us. It’s dark out now, and as soon as the frigid air hits me it deflates me completely. My knees buckle underneath me and the weakness and chronic pain that I’ve been holding back for the last hour or so come flooding back, leaving me in heap on the porch.

“Jean!” Marco cries out, kneeling down next to me as I sit back up. I blink rapidly a few times to clear my vision and then reach out for his shoulder for support.

“Sorry, a little too much excitement for one night I guess.” I say with a weak chuckle, trying to hold back the shudders that begin when the wind whips between the house siding and those big, stupid columns on the porch.

“You’re shivering. Let’s get in the car.” Marco says, sliding his arms underneath mine in a sort of bear hug and then lifting me up. Then he walks me down the ridiculously long walkway and to his car. Once we’re both inside, he turns starts it up and cranks the heat. Then we sit in silence for a few moments, neither of even daring to breathe.

That’s when he starts crying. 

Marco lays his forearms over the steering wheel and then plants his forehead on them. Even in the low visibility from the streetlights I can see his shoulders shaking. And even with the heat on full blast I can still hear his stifled sobs.

“Marco…I’m sorry. He just got me so mad.” I apologize, setting a tentative hand on his upper back. “I lost control.” I admit, shame tingeing my voice a shade darker than usual. Marco sniffs and then turns his head to the side so that he’s looking at me. I can barely see the details of his face, but I can see how the water in his eyes reflects the green hue of the button controls in his car.

“No, you _took _control. And you stood up for me.” He corrects me, taking me by surprise. I thought he was upset with me for what happened, not happy. Sitting up, he wipes his eyes on his sleeve. He’s still wearing the blue sweatshirt that I loaned him, which makes it kind of sweet.__

“Of course I did. He’s a dick.” I say angrily, just the thought of him getting me riled up. Marco suddenly throws his arms around me and pulls me into a hug, burying his face in my neck. I’m caught off guard, but I quickly recover and settle my hands on the middle of his back. He’s still crying, and I can feel his body shaking against me. So I hold him tighter. 

“You’re the best, Jean.” He sobs, muffled by the thick fabric of his brown jacket that I’m still wearing from yesterday. I wonder if his parents noticed I was wearing it. I doubt it. 

“Are you going to get in trouble?” I ask quietly. Marco starts nervously tugging at the bottom of my beanie with a shaky hand.

“Probably…I don’t care though. I’m going to tell him everything when I get home tonight. I’ll stand up to him finally.”

“Will you be okay?” I ask, imagining for a brief moment all of the terrible fates that could befall him, and how they would all be my fault.

“Yeah. If things get too bad I’ll just go to your place, like I promised.” He assures me. I exhale in relief at that. 

“Thank you. And if you don’t end up coming over, can you at least call to let me know you’re okay?”

“Of course.” Marco answers, letting his nervous fingers sink down to the back of my neck, just resting there. 

Thank you.” I breathe, hoping that nothing bad happens to him. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to my Marco. I smile softly to myself. When did I start thinking of him as mine?

“Well I should get you home. It’s getting kind of late. Plus my dad’s probably in there flipping out wondering why we haven’t left yet.” Marco says with a weak laugh as he lets go of me. I release him too and sit back in my seat. Then we pull away into the night, a tough next few hours hanging over Marco’s head, and a simple but loaded question hanging over mine.

Did I do the right thing?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I wake with a start to a loud ringing right in my ear, paired with vibrating against my goddamn temple. What the fuck time is it? I grumble and grab my phone, which I fell asleep with my head on and answer it, not even looking to see who it is.

“Mm?” Is how I answer when I’ve been woken up. If you call me when I’m asleep you don’t deserve a hello.

“Jean? Did I wake you up? Well it’s three in the morning so I’m sure I did. I’m sorry.” I hear Marco’s clear voice over the line. That’s when the events of the evening come flooding back to me. The dinner, the argument with his dad, the dreaded ‘talk’ upon Marco’s return home after dropping me off.

“Nah…’s fine. Are you ‘kay?” I ask, trying to will my words to stop slurring together. But I can’t help it. I’m really tired. I’m not even holding my damn phone. I’m just lying on my side with my eyes closed, while it’s resting on my ear. I hear a chuckle from Marco’s end.

“You sound cute when you’re tired.” He says, not sounding a bit upset about everything that happened before. I force my eyes open for a moment in an effort to wake myself up but it doesn’t help.

“Shut up. Are you okay?” I say a little more clearly this time. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m great actually. I stood up to him Jean. I told him I’m not going to be a doctor and that he can’t scare me into it anymore.”

“What’d he say?” I ask, coming around a little more.

“He was really mad. But I don’t care anymore, because I’m not going to let him intimidate me. I’m doing what I want from now on.” He declares, sounding on top of the world. I smile for a moment, so glad that things worked out for him. But then it fades as I begin to think.

“Is he still going to hurt you?” I ask. Then I sit up on my couch, holding the phone closer to my ear. “Did he hit you tonight when you got back?” Marco takes a few seconds before he answers, but that’s already enough answer for me. Shit.

“A little bit, but no worse than usual. And I’m so used to it by now that if I just don’t let it bother me, I’m sure he’ll give up eventually. I told him he can do whatever he wants to me and it still won’t make a difference.” I take a deep breath and let it out shakily before answering.

“Marco, are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I ask, biting my lip. God, I’ve never felt so worried about someone in my life. All I want is for him to just come here and be with me, so I’ll at least know he’s safe.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He insists. I grip the phone tightly in my hand, unsure of what to say next. Half of me wants to just beg him to come here anyway, while the other half knows that won’t do any good in the long run. He’s right. He needs to deal with this. Marco continues speaking before I have the chance to figure out my own thoughts.

“Jean, I want to seriously thank you for sticking up for me earlier. Nobody has ever done that for me. Not even my mom or my older brother.” Marco says, his voice becoming quieter, more serious. I feel a small smile creep onto my lips.

“You’re my best friend man. I’d do anything for you.” I answer, knowing it’s completely the truth. 

“I’d do anything for you too. And I owe you. So whatever you want, I’m your guy.” He assures me. I can’t help but chuckle lightly at that. If only he really was ‘my guy’. I’m not going to ask for that though. If that ever actually happens, it won’t be because he owes me.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I say, making sure he can hear the hint of scheming in my voice. Marco lets out a little laugh and it’s music to my ears. I was scared earlier in the midst of everything that I may not hear him laugh for some time. 

“Just don’t make me do anything illegal.”

“I can’t make…any promises.” I reply, pausing midway through my sentence for a yawn. 

“I should let you get back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up by the way.” He apologizes. 

“I told you to call me, remember? So shut up.”

“You’re telling me to shut up an awful lot tonight.” Marco teases me with a chuckle. I roll my eyes in the darkness of my living room even though nobody is around to see it.

“I’m always rude when I’m tired.” I justify, deciding not to bring up the fact that the first shut up was for calling me cute. Now that I’m more awake and my head is clearer, it’s almost enough to bring a blush to my cheeks.

“I’m pretty sure you’re always just a tad rude Jean. That’s okay though. It’s part of your charm.” He retorts back readily, surprising me a bit. Well, someone’s a bit daring tonight. It’s probably because he’s so high off of the adrenaline from standing up to his dad. I pretend to scoff in disbelief.

“I am not always rude! But you are right about the charming part.” I reply, unable to hold back the goofy smile that’s made my lips its home. Thank goodness we’re just on the phone and he’s not actually here to see how much of a dork I am.

“Of course I am. I've always thought you were charming.” Marco say happily, immediately making butterflies start to flutter in my stomach. I pull my knees up to my chin, something I notice I’ve been doing a lot lately when he makes me nervous. It’s stupid that he can make me like this even when he’s not here. But yet here I am, curled up in a ball on the couch like a little kid talking to his crush, clutching the phone to my ear. It reminds me of the first time him and I texted each other, after he left his number for me in that ridiculously sappy note he wrote me.

Thank goodness Marco continues talking instead of waiting for me to answer, because once again I have no idea what to say. I don’t really think ‘I’ve always thought you were charming too’ would really work, because that would definitely be categorized as flirting territory. Which at this point, I don’t even know if that’s off limits anymore or not. But right now I’d rather not push it.

“But I’ll let you go. Again, sorry for waking you up,” He’s ignores my shouted ‘shut up’ and keeps talking. “And I hope you sleep well. I have some homework to take care of in the morning, but I’ll be over in the early afternoon to take you to chemo.”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Marco just laughs, sounding perfect as always. 

“We need to get some type of weekly routine going for you so you can keep track of the days. Tomorrow, or I guess today since it’s past midnight, is Sunday.” He explains. After earning an ‘oh shit’ from me, he bids me goodnight sweetly and I do the same, trying not to yawn between every word. And then it’s silent, and I’m alone again. 

Technically I was alone this whole time, but without his voice in my ear this dingy apartment truly feels empty. I flip on the TV so that it’s not completely silent, and then roll over so that I’m facing the back of the couch. My brain immediately floats to thoughts of Marco, because honestly what else do I even have to think about these days? Cancer? Dying? I mean I guess I could try thinking about getting better, but I’m not exactly the most optimistic guy around. 

So Marco it is. First I flip through the obvious facts. After today I know that his dad is a total dick. I mean I’m not nice, but not even a nice person could try finding good in that guy. I also know that I have totally, one hundred percent fallen for Marco by this point. There’s no way around that one. And that leads me to the third and most obvious fact. Marco is pretty much perfect. At least I haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. Maybe the only thing wrong with him is that he decides to spend his time with a loser like me. That’s about it though.

Then I start thinking about the more complicated stuff. Marco is a lot more complex than he tries to let on. I’m definitely not as smart or observant as he is, but I still notice little things about him. He’s constantly watching and constantly thinking. Sometimes I just want so badly to get inside that mind of his that it aches.

But mostly I just want to know what he’s feeling. I don’t just want to be a burden on him. I want to help him through things as well and talk him through tough times like he always does for me. 

I want him to need me in the same way I find myself so desperately needing him. I don’t know when it started, but I can’t imagine my life without him now. Earlier when his dad was saying that he may be my best friend but I wasn’t his, I didn’t believe him even for a second. Because I know Marco and I know that I’m important to him. But often I do find myself wondering if I’m quite as important to him as he is to me. 

That may just be a confidence thing though. Because you know, I have absolutely none. But nonetheless, maybe I should talk to Marco soon about what we are. If anyone saw how we are when we’re alone, they’d say we’re a bit more than just best friends. Take this morning for example, the way we woke up together and instead of freaking out he just pulled me closer to him.

Shit, I’m so fucking confused about what’s going on between us right now. I want to just say something about it, but I know that’ll screw things up completely if that’s not the way this is heading.

And if I lost Marco, I’d have nothing to fight for and I’d be right back where I started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter felt a little sudden. I've had it planned for a while but wasn't sure when to put it in. But I didn't really have anything else to write while easing into this confrontational chapter so I figured why not, I'll just put it in now. So yeah, I know it's a little rushed with Jean meeting Marco's dad literally the day after he finds out about his home situation. Sorry!
> 
> But yeah I'm just going to be honest with you guys. It's going to be slow going when it comes to updates from here on out with school having started back up again. With my classes and with marching band (it's my life, judge if you want) I don't have a lot of down time. So don't expect fast updates. I mean I'm sure you don't anymore since I've been taking like a month on average to write a chapter lately. I'm sorry about that :( I'll try not to be that bad anymore but no promises lol. 
> 
> I love you guys so much and thank you for not hating me! And P.S. if you have any advice on making a tumblr for a fan fiction please please please help me!


	12. Castle of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooo sorry for the long wait!!! :'( See the end notes for my terrible excuse :p
> 
> In this chapter we see Jean being fancy-shmancy, adorableness from Marco (AS USUAL), supportive ReiBert, and then some serious stuff goes down!

MARCO’S POV:

It’s Sunday and I’m on my way to Jean’s house feeling empowered and full of life. I don’t know how things could possibly get any better for me right now. The smile on my face hasn’t left all morning and I’m ready to take anything on.

Last night when I got home, my dad was waiting in the foyer for me just like I expected. However, I didn’t feel that usual tightening in my chest or that panic in the back of my mind that he often brings me. Instead, I found myself wanting to be like Jean for once. Jean always says what he wants without so much as a second thought. So I marched inside and for once didn’t bother thinking about what I was about to say. I just went for it.

Maybe everything didn’t come out exactly how I wanted it to, or quite as punctuated, but I got my point across. Of course, my father was livid and I can’t recall a time he ever yelled louder at me, but it was just so hard to care at that point, even when he started hitting me…

I just don’t care what he thinks anymore, not now that Jean has given me the strength to say what I need to. 

The sudden buzz of my phone vibrating against my thigh startles me out of my thoughts. I reach into my pocket and pull it out, seeing that Connie is calling me.

“Hello?” I answer, raising it up to my ear.

“SHE SAID YES!!!” He bellows, nearly deafening me on that side. I pull the phone slightly away from my head, wincing at his volume.

“Um…did you propose to someone or something?”

“No weirdo, I asked Sasha to homecoming!” He explains happily. I smile at the audible mirth in his voice. 

“Awe that’s nice. I’m happy for you guys!” I congratulate him. “I didn’t even realize homecoming was coming up.” I add thoughtfully, more to myself than to him.

“Yeah, it’s two Saturdays from now dude. By the way, can you break the news to Jean? That’s sort of that main reason I called. Sasha was supposed to be his date so that he could go to the dance even though he doesn’t go here anymore.” He chuckles awkwardly as I groan in distress. “Yeah, I kinda screwed that up. I really like her though.” He justifies.

“No way, that’s not my job. One of you needs to call him. He’ll be really mad if he hears it from me and not you.” 

“It’s Jean, he’ll be really mad either way.” Connie laughs. I sigh, realizing that he’s too excited about his date to worry about anyone beside himself right now.

“ _Please _Connie.” I stress, hoping my tone will get through to him. I hear silence on the line for a few moments and then a sigh of defeat.__

“All right. I’m just scared he’ll hate me.” He admits, and I can’t lie it sort of takes me by surprise. I thought he was just being insensitive.

“He won’t hate you, I promise. And if he does I’ll get him to come to his senses.” I assure him. Connie hesitates but then exhales heavily into the receiver again. 

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll call him now. Talk to you later man.” He responds, putting a small, victorious grin back onto my face. I bid him farewell and put my phone down. It feels good to have helped out Connie and gotten him to talk to Jean about it himself. However, I’m forecasting very stormy weather in the Kirstein residence this afternoon.

Jean, however, surprises me in more ways than one upon answering the door when I arrive.

He’s on the phone with Connie when he opens it, and he steps aside for me to come in. I can’t help but double take him before I enter. He looks…really good. I mean I haven’t been able to help but notice the last few times I’ve seen him that he’s good looking, but he looks especially handsome today.

“Nah man, I understand.” He says into the phone as he closes the door behind us.

Jean’s wearing a patterned knit sweater, covered in fall colors that suit the season perfectly. Below that he’s wearing a pair of dark brown pants that fit his legs in a slightly snug way that makes me have to remind myself to stop staring. And of course the whole outfit is topped off with two things that never change, the dark gray beanie that may as well be a part of him at this point, and those light brown eyes that somehow brighten up this dank little apartment that I’m quickly beginning to becoming accustomed to.

He shoots me an amused look with the usual eyebrow-raise, which I’m assuming means he’s caught me eyeing him up. Normally I’d fall into a fit of blushing and eye-contact-avoiding, but I just answer his look with a cheeky smile and take a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. He looks generally surprised, but then falls into a frown as he focuses back onto his conversation with Connie. I should probably be focusing more on that too instead of ogling him. In fact, did I just hear him say before that he understands? That’s a first.

“I said I get it dude. If you keep saying sorry I’ll change my mind.” Jean says with a laugh, but it’s forced. I’m sure even Connie can hear that over the phone. At least he isn’t flipping out though. Maybe some of my patience is rubbing off on Jean in the same way that his bravery has been rubbing off on me lately.

“All right, see you.” He says, pressing his thumb to his phone and then shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. I’m surprised he’s this calm. Usually at this point he’d start cursing or yelling and–

“Connie is such a fucking dick!” Jean suddenly shouts, effectively making me jump out of my skin and clutch my hand to my chest. 

“Jesus! Jean, you scared the living daylights out of me!” I exclaim in accusation. He glares at me for a moment, but then a peal of laughter breaks its way through his façade.

“Living daylights? God, why am I even friends with you?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, sitting down in the chair next to me. I discretely take notice as to how roughly he lets himself fall into the seat, and the slight wince in his expression because of it. He tries to hide it as best he can, but he must be having a bad day pain-wise.

It makes me wonder why he tried so hard to dress nice, when I personally would just want to crawl into a pair of sweats and hide away if I were in his situation. He never ceases to surprise me.

“So what’s the occasion?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at his sweater. He cocks his head slightly to the side and I try to ignore how cute it is.

“This is like my second or third day back from the hospital. Maybe I always dress like this when I’m home. How would you know?” He says with a bit of a I’m-totally-lying smirk peaking into his expression. 

“You told me you literally wear jeans and t-shirt every day, unless it gets cold. Then you wear a hoodie too.” I call him out, causing him to just smile knowingly and slightly bashfully. 

“Yeah I know, I know. I just wanted to dress kind of nice because you always look nice and I don’t.” He admits, scratching the top of his head through his hat. Then a thoughtful look comes onto his face. A patiently wait for him to decide whether he wants to tell me what else is on his mind. After releasing a small sigh and casting his gaze to the floor, he tells me.

“I also just…Ugh. It’s kind of dumb, but after what your dad said last night about me being a goner and stuff, I just want to be able to prove that I’m doing better, you know? I want to look the part I guess. I don’t want to look sick.” He explains, his voice lowering in that way it does when he’s ashamed or embarrassed. He’s practically down to a whisper despite the fact that it’s just the two of us here. I’m slightly taken aback by that, considering how adamant Jean always is about that fact that he doesn't care what my dad thinks. 

“Jean, you don’t have to dress nicer just to prove my dad wrong. He doesn't know what he’s talking about. He doesn't know you.” I insist, placing my hand on his, which is resting on his knee. Watching his face, I instantly see the worry lines soften slightly when I touch him. 

“You worry too much.” I add, getting a ghost of a smile out of him. 

“You’re usually the one that worries way too much, not me.” He argues, his usual abrasiveness starting to come back after his brief, vulnerable hiatus. I remove my hand from his to glance at my watch and then stand up.

“True, which is why you need me. And speaking of which, it’s time to get to your chemo appointment.” I inform Jean, looking around the room for a jacket for him. It’s even colder out today than it was yesterday, and I refuse to let him be cold. A warm feeling blossoms in my gut when I see my thick, light brown jacket that I gave him the day of his discharge bundled up on the couch along with his rainbow blanket. He probably fell asleep in it again last night when he got back.

Part of me wishes I didn’t find that so adorable, while the other part just wants me to stop over thinking things for once and enjoy the thought of him all snuggled up in my jacket for the night, the sleeves extending slightly past his knuckles. 

After I grab it and turn around, I can tell Jean is still thinking about what he told me. He’s standing now, eyes blankly staring slightly downward and his hand lightly gripping the back of the chair for support. I come to a stop in the middle of his living room, clutching the jacket in both my hands. He’s too self-conscious. If only he could see what I see…

“You look cute by the way.” I say suddenly, before I have a chance to stop myself. His eyes immediately snap back up to mine, a look of almost bewilderment on his face for only a second. Then he switches back to his usual, snarky expression.

“What’s up with you and calling me cute lately?” He teases me with a little laugh. A feel a blush creep up my neck, but what else would I expect from Jean? He answers pretty much everything with a joke or an insult. I open my mouth to speak as he walks over to me, but nothing comes out. He takes the jacket from my hands and shrugs it on.

“Thanks…You look cute too.” He says more sincerely, a nervous grin on his lips. At that, I know for sure that the blush finishes making its way over my entire face. So I simply smile and head for the door, thanking him as I practically flee his apartment

Darn it Marco, what happened to being brave from now on?

At least the ride to the hospital isn’t nearly as awkward as I was scared it would be after that little exchange. We have plenty to talk about, or should I say Jean has plenty to complain about.

“I just don’t get why Connie had to actually ask her to be his date. She easily could have just ditched me when we got there to go hang with his dumb ass. You know what I mean?” Jean is busy exclaiming at a red light. “And I thought they were dating by now. Like, I even thought they were dating before I went in the hospital. They fucking act like it. They spend all their God damn time together. This shouldn’t even be a big deal for them!”

“Well it’s a big deal for you.” I point out, a teasing tone in my voice. Jean frowns knowingly at me and then sighs, leaning his head back in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, that’s because this was supposed to be my senior year and I want to go with all my friends. They get to go no matter what. I only get to go if I have a date that goes there.” He explains, clamping his hands onto his face in dread. “This fucking sucks Marcooooo!”

“Do you know any other girls who don’t have a date and would be willing to take you?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“All the girls I’m friends with already have dates. Sasha was the only one left.”

“Even Ymir?” I ask. I don’t mean in a way that I see her as undesirable as a date. I just can’t imagine her saying yes to a guy. In fact, I can’t imagine her not knocking out a guy if he asked her to the dance.

“She’s going with Krista, so that’s two girls out of the running right there.” Jean moans unhappily. Trost High allows same sex dates for the dances? That’s interesting, because my old high school in Jinae didn’t allow that sort of thing. Then again, I used to live in a much smaller and less urban town. It’s good to see larger public schools making strides towards equality for students of all sexualities, no matter wha–

And that’s when the gears suddenly start turning. I have an idea. Scratch that, it’s already turning into a solid plan as we pull into the hospital parking lot. The whole way up to the oncology department Jean goes on and on about how he doesn’t know what he’s going to do or how he’s going to get into the dance. Meanwhile, I’m perfecting my course of action.

By the time his doctor has gone through everything and actually has him hooked up to the infusion, I’m having a hard time keeping myself from fidgeting. Jean finally calms down once his treatment starts since it always puts him in a fowl mood. But unfortunately I can’t sit here and comfort him throughout it this time. He’ll understand why afterwards though, and he’ll forgive me.

“Mind if I go to the bathroom?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible. He shakes his head, not bothering to open his eyes. I highly doubt he’s already started to feel sick from the medication yet, so he must just be tense in preparation for it. I pat his shoulder lightly and get up. Once I’m out in the hallway, I go on a hunt for the one person in this hospital whose help I need right now. 

When I see a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye, I know I’ve found her.

“Franny!” I call out, catching her attention at the nursing station at the intersection of the hallways. She turns around, eyes wide as she searches for the source of voice that called her. When she sees me walking over to her, the smile that erupts onto her face is priceless.

“Marco!” She cries out, setting down her chart and rushing around the counter to wrap me up in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you! Where’s Jean?” She asks happily, glancing around to make sure he’s not hiding somewhere in the vicinity.

“He’s getting treatment right now. But actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something. It’s for Jean.” I start, catching her interest. 

“What is it?” Francesca asks curiously. I sigh, hoping she doesn’t think this is totally weird or inappropriate to ask her for help with. Well here goes nothing.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now I’m standing in the middle of Jean’s old hospital room, and it’s an oddly comforting feeling. Hundreds of memories come flooding into my head just from being in here. I think about when he made me give him that awful, embarrassing note, which just may have been the official start of our friendship. Then I remember the arguing and tears when I convinced him to restart the chemotherapy. Then my mind flits back to all the times I sat on his bed with him during his treatments and we just talked and laughed, and sometimes he dozed off on my shoulder. Next, the party comes back into my head, followed by the almost kiss, which seems less and less frightening every time I think about it lately.

Basing off of that, it’s no longer a matter of whether I like him or he likes me. It’s a matter of bravery, which I hope I don’t run out of before he gets here. 

I've filled his hospital room with every single balloon that was for sale in both of the gift shops in the hospital, which is surprisingly quite a few. They’re all mismatched and random, some of them congratulating him on his baby boy or baby girl, the others telling him to get better. However, I didn't have a lot of options.

In my hands is a basket of banana muffins from the cafeteria downstairs, and I hope to God that they work their magic again. I've also got some Linkin Park music playing on my phone that’s hooked up to a speaker Franny got for me from a conference room computer, because I’m a dork. It’s not exactly romantic sounding, but hey it’s the only band I know for sure that Jean likes.

Nerves suddenly bundle up in my stomach when I hear Jean’s complaining sailing down the hallway toward the room.

“Do you really have to cover my eyes? This is fucking stupid Franny. I don’t want a surprise. I have to find Marco. He’s been in the bathroom for like an hour. He’s probably sick or something. And I feel like shit myself.” He’s still grumbling as she leads him right into the doorway of the room. He stops talking when he hears the music, but before he has a chance to ask what’s going on, she uncovers his eyes and scrambles down the hallway as fast as possible to give us privacy.

I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Jean blinks a few times, acclimating himself to his surroundings, and then he focuses on me, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, clutching a basket of muffins in both of my hands. Damn, this is it. You can do it Marco. I take a deep breath and fight the feeling of lead hardening in my veins, trying to immobilize me.

“Uh…I’ll give you these muffins if you go to homecoming with me.” I spurt out. Wow. That sounded about a hundred times smoother in my head. I meant for it to resemble the time when Franny used them to get him to go to the picnic, so she told me. I thought it would be cute since that was where we ended up meeting each other for the first time.

But now I just feel dumb. Heat flushes its way over what feels like my entire body, but surprisingly Jean doesn't laugh at me. At first he looks completely surprised and caught off guard. He stares at me, then the muffins, and then looks up at all the balloons lining the ceiling. Then when he trains his gaze back on me, one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen graces his lips.

“Oh my God, you’re so lame. But yes, I’d love to go.” He says happily, walking up to me and accepting the muffins graciously. I laugh out of both embarrassment and relief and resist the urge to hug him. I don’t really know if this is actually a date, or if we’re just going as friends. Heck, maybe he thinks I’m just being nice so that he can get into the dance. But still, I feel on top of the world right now. Nothing could bring me down.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It’s a week before homecoming and how I ended up going suit shopping with Reiner and Bertholdt is beyond me, but I’m kind of glad for it. They've always been those two in the group that have been a bit of a mystery to me. Bertholdt barely ever talks, and while Reiner never shuts up, I still don’t actually know much about him either.

“So, is it a date?” Reiner asks suddenly, coming up behind me while I’m in the midst of looking through a rack of jackets. I nearly burst from surprise, but I manage to keep my cool…well some of it.

“No, not at all!” I answer mechanically, my first instinct automatically being to deny, deny, deny. Reiner clicks his tongue in disappointment and rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to ask that again, but first let me preface it by letting you in on a secret. I’m gay. Bertholdt’s gay. We’re a thing, and we have been for a long ass time.” He says matter-of-factly. Bertholdt, who is a few meters away from us, glances up in surprise in the midst of running his hand cautiously over a shirt sleeve, but doesn’t say anything in protest. I stare at big, blonde, football player/champion discus thrower Reiner in disbelief. 

“Really?” I ask timidly. He nods and Bertholdt finally sighs and joins us over in the corner of the store.

“We just don’t act like it at school because we haven’t told anyone yet. We will at the dance though.” He says softly, a small smile on his face. I exhale heavily, thinking through all the times I’ve seen the two of them together. Actually, when have I not seen the two of them together? Maybe it’s not as unlikely as it seems on the surface.

“I…I don’t know if it’s a date.” I admit, earning a nods of approval from the both of them. 

“Do you want it to be one?” Bertholdt asks, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It’s weird all of the sudden having my feelings out there for them to see. I've only ever told Nac before because I tell him everything and he’s my brother, but the both of them come off as trustworthy, so I give in.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then you my friend have got yourself a date!” Reiner declares, slapping my upper back cheerfully. When I look up at him curiously, he rolls his eyes again. “You can’t be serious. Okay, you do realize that Jean really likes you, right? Like head over heels, smitten as a kitten, you know the drill man.” He says. I gawk at him. How could he possibly know for sure?

“Did Jean tell you that?” I ask, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. He just chuckles and then walks over to look at some of the taller-sized pants. I follow him, desperate for an answer.

“No dude. At his birthday party it was just obvious. He was staring at you pretty much the whole time, and every time you’d catch him he’d blush. It was pretty fucking cute, not gonna lie.” He laughs. “And you were doing the exact same thing!” He adds, poking me lightly in the chest with a smirk. I feel my face heat up slightly and Reiner calls over to Bertholdt, claiming that I’m ‘doing it again’. 

“I know he likes me, I get that. I don’t know what to do though, because I’m not…you know.” I find it hard to say when we’re out in public like this in the middle of a store. Reiner raises an eyebrow at me, resembling slightly the look Jean gives me all too often.

“Marco you can call it whatever you want. Gay, bi, experimenting, bro love, taking a dip in the mud pit¬¬-“ I cut him off with a groan of despondency.

“I like that one.” Bertholdt snickers from behind me. I wave them off and decide to venture to another part of the store. I know they’re just messing with me, but I’m actually having a serious problem right now. I don’t know which course to take with this dance, and I only have a week to figure it out.

“Oh come on, I was just trying to make a point.” Reiner says, running to catch up with me in front of the dressing rooms. I sigh, waiting for him to continue. “My point is, whatever label you file yourself under, it doesn’t matter. The fact is, you want to be with him. So be with him.” He finishes sincerely, giving me a small smile that generates a comforting, warm feeling in my chest.

“Okay. You’re right.” I agree, earning a thumbs up from both him and Bertholdt who is practically swooning over a fuchsia shirt that is most definitely Reiner’s size. Huh, I guess they really are together. 

“Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of, can you please try this on?” He asks, coming up behind the bigger, blonde boy. Reiner grins and takes it from him while kissing him on the cheek simultaneously. I smile softly to myself while walking away to go find something of my own to wear to the dance. 

While I do that, I imagine Jean and I being like Reiner and Bertholdt one day. They seem so content and just suitable for each other…Yeah, I could definitely see me and Jean being like that. All I have to do is just tell him how I feel, right?

I’ll do it at the dance.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now it’s barely a half-hour before I’m supposed to go pick up Jean to go take pictures with all of our friends and then head to the dance, and I’m a nervous wreck. This one piece of my hair keeps sticking up and it’s driving me insane. As soon as I put my button-up shirt on I started sweating, so I can’t imagine even touching my jacket right now even though it’s only forty-five degrees outside. And for the life of me I cannot find the tickets! I swear I had them on my bedroom desk, one for me and one for Jean. But they’re nowhere to be found now and I’m about to lose it.

Not to mention I quickly losing my previous resolve to take chances tonight and tell Jean how I feel. It’s insane how quickly my confidence can go out the window when one little thing goes wrong, like losing the _freaking tickets to the dance! _I might not even get the chance to make a move tonight because we may not even get into the dance. I think I’d crawl into a hole and hide forever if that happened. Jean would hate me.__

I groan in frustration just as my dad walks past my open doorway. Oh yeah, I forgot he’s home today. Silently, I will him to just keep walking because any input from him is literally the last thing I need right now, but instead he pokes his head into my room.

“What’s wrong son?” He asks, feigned concern in his voice. I snap my eyes up and look at him, at the slight grin hinting at the corner of his mouth. And right then I realize what’s going on. Why else would he care that I’m upset about something, unless he caused it and was simply here to enjoy the show?

He took the tickets, I just know it. 

“Where are my homecoming tickets?” I ask firmly, absolutely fuming in my head. Why does he always have to try and ruin the good things in my life? Why?

“Right here. Your mother and I decided you’re not going to the dance tonight.” He drawls disinterestedly, pulling the tickets half out of the front pocket of his dress pants. 

“Why not?” I ask through gritted teeth, my fists clenching at my sides. That’s when something clicks in him, and the anger starts up in him as well. That telltale glint in his eyes appears and he stands just a bit straighter.

“Because you lied to us. You told us you were going with that girl Krista from your chemistry class, but the other name on the ticket here says Jean Kirstein.” My dad explains, causing my heart to drop into my stomach. He takes a menacing step forward, looming over me as the fear he’s always struck into my core begins to return. I thought I’d gotten over this. I thought I was brave now.

“Are you two together?” He asks, his voice low and almost growl-like. I want to deny it at first, because we technically aren’t together and it wouldn’t be lying. But in my heart I know he’s not asking about technicalities. He’s asking if there is something, anything going on between Jean and me, and we both know that there is.

When I don’t answer, opting to cast my eyes to the floor instead, he roughly grabs a hold of my face with one of his large hands. He forces me to look at him, and my heart speeds up my chest as I begin to realize that he’s breaking his usual pattern. He never starts fights like this, which means he’s never been this angry with me before.

“You know, I’ve been patient with you boy. I’ve dealt with your petty complaints and your poor excuses for courage lately. I’ve even pretended that I haven’t been able to hear your subpar guitar playing for the last four years. But I will not…” He pauses and just glares at me for a moments while exhaling shakily, as if trying to figure out how he could possibly express how much he hates me. I try to ignore the tears welling up in my eyes as I wait for him to decide how to finish his sentence. 

But he doesn’t finish it. Instead, his right fist comes swinging through the air far too fast for me to react, not that it matters since he has my chin firmly gripped in his other hand. Sharp pain explodes in my left eye and cheek and I stumble back, tripping over my desk chair and landing on the floor in a clattering, chaotic motion. I can’t help the gasp of hurt I let out upon my landing.

“I will not have a gay son!” He bellows above me. I notice movement behind him and spot my mother in the hallway, sobbing into her hands but still peering at me between her fingers.

“Mom,” I plead, blinking away blood as it drips slowly down my face, mingling with tears. Glancing at my dad’s hand, I realize his class ring must have cut me somewhere above my eye. When I look back at her, she’s shaking her head mournfully. Then she walks away, her high heels clicking all the way down the hallway until I hear my parents’ bedroom door close.

The pain from the punch doesn’t even compare to the realization that she no longer finds me worth protecting.

“She agrees with me Marco. We raised you better than this.” My dad hisses, grabbing me by my collar and hauling me back up. I’m panicking now, feeling my heart beat far too fast and my lungs suck in breaths that aren’t doing me any good. 

“Is this what you want? Are you going to choose this unsavory lifestyle over your family?” He asks, uncomfortably close to my face. I stare at the floor and don’t say anything, because any of the things running through my mind would just make him angrier. Instead I concentrate on the throbbing that’s beginning around my eye, following its rhythm in my head. 

“Answer me.” My dad demands. I snap my eyes back to him, feeling an unfamiliar rage rise up inside of me. It reminds me of what I felt when I saw him putting Jean down at dinner a few weeks ago, except much worse. I feel like I’m losing myself in this emotion that I rarely ever let myself feel because I’ve replaced it with fear my entire life. And now it’s all bubbling up and out, making me see red.

The thought of no longer spending time with Jean just to make my dad happy makes me feel nauseated. To be honest, I know he’ll never truly be happy with me no matter what. Because the truth is, he just doesn't like me. That’s the bottom line, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Then there’s Jean. Since I met him, he’s made me rethink pretty much everything about myself and how I live my life. I was a straight, run of the mill, good-grade-getting student on his way to his choice of pre-med programs. Now, I spend most of my time wishing I was either playing guitar or sitting next to him on his couch. Or both. Both would be nice.

He makes me believe in myself in ways I never thought possible and there’s no way I’m going to let anything get in the way of what could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“I choose Jean.” I say, my voice quieter than I had hoped, but at least I’m saying it. My dad squints his eyes and inches his face even closer to mine in hopes of intimidating me. But I’ve had enough of that. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said I choose Jean. Now give me my tickets.” I say much louder and clearer this time. I hold out my hand, waiting for him to pull them out of his pocket. He stares at me in surprise, taken aback by my ballsy answer and lets go of my collar. Then he reaches his hand down, but when I see it heading for my stomach instead of his pocket, it’s too late.

He lands a swift, agonizing punch to my lower abdomen, and I crumple to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. I tense up in anticipation for more, but no subsequent hits or kicks come. When I open my eyes my father is staring down at me, just a hint of tears in his eyes. 

I've never seen him cry before. Ever.

“I’m done with you.” He announces simply, pulling out the tickets and dropping them on my floor. Then he turns around and leaves the room. I remain perfectly still on my side with my knees drawn up to my chest, waiting to listen where he goes. I don’t move a muscle until I hear the front door open and shut and his car pull away. 

This is usually the time when my mom comes running the rescue, crying and apologizing that she couldn't do anything to stop him. However, her door doesn't open even after I wait a few extra moments. I guess she really does agree with him. My heart sinks as I pull myself painfully up off of the floor, picking up the tickets as I go.

At least I got these back. I run my fingers over the thick paper momentarily, thinking over everything that just happened. My dad said he’s done with me, and from what I can tell my mom is done with me too.

If I’m to be honest with myself, I've been done with the both of them for a while.

So that’s when I start packing. I do it as quickly as possible, since now I only have ten minutes to be at Jean’s house. I just fill a gym bag full of winter clothes and essentials. When I make a pit stop in the bathroom to grab my toothbrush and razor, I halt in front of the mirror. 

Damn, I already have a black eye, and a bruise is swimming under the skin of my cheek under that eye as well. I at least take the time to wet a tissue and wipe off tiny trail of blood that has almost made its way to my chin from just below my eyebrow. He got me good, I’ll give him that. I’m refusing to think about tenderness in my abdomen when he punched me, knowing it’ll only grow worse with time.

Once I've got everything together, I put on my suit jacket and grab my bag and make sure to get my guitar from my closet as well. What my dad said about my playing lingers in the back of my mind, but I know that in truth he probably just said it to hurt my feelings. So I pack everything into the trunk of my car and then make my way to Jean’s apartment as fast as I can. I don’t even give myself time to think as I speed over there. 

When I pull up in front of his building, that’s when I suddenly realize that I maybe should have thought a little bit on the way here. What am I going to tell him when he asks what happened to my face? I lean back in my seat and groan to myself, running a hand down the good side of my face in frustration. If I tell him why my dad and I fought, he’ll get upset and blame himself, and it’ll ruin our whole night. So I need to think of something and fast. 

He’ll know right away that it was my dad, so I can’t lie about that. I stay in the car for at least five minutes, trying to think of something. I’ve never been a good liar, so I can’t just think of excuses on the fly like this. 

I still have nothing when I see Jean’s apartment door open. He must have seen me out here and got tired of waiting. He pops his head out of the doorway, frowning at my car. Then he comes outside, looking absolutely perfect in his outfit. Of course, he still has his beanie on, but it suits him. His pants are the same dark gray as his hat, and so is his vest. The fact that he’s even wearing a vest is adorable in itself. He has a white button-up on underneath and has his black suit jacket slung over his shoulder. 

He looks like a freaking model. I’m so distracted, it takes a moment to remember that he’ll probably need help getting down the stairs. As I’m rushing over, he calls out to me.

“Sorry I made you wait. I thought you were coming to the door like you usually do!” He laughs merrily, a handsome smile lighting up his face. Then it disappears and is replaced with a look of horror, which I’m assuming is because I am now at the bottom of the steps and close enough for him to make out the state of my face.

“Marco, what happened!?” He cries out, starting to rush his way down the stairs. I hold out my hands to catch him just in case he falls and tell him to calm down.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! What the fuck happened!?” Jean exclaims shrilly, panic evident in his tone. I meet him halfway up the steps before he falls and hurts and himself and he grips my shoulder tightly with one hand, the other hovering near my face but not daring to touch it. “Was it your dad?” He asks, the crack in his voice suggesting he’s already on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey. Relax. I’m fine. But yeah, it was my dad…He just wanted me to stay home and work on schoolwork instead of going to the dance, that’s all.” I lie, but hey at least I thought of something finally. There’s no way I could tell him the truth, not when he’s already this upset. 

“Oh my God, you’re not going back there tonight are you? He’s going to be so mad that you went anyway.” He says, his face crumpling at the thought. I shake my head and place a reassuring hand on the one he has locked on my shoulder.

“I already packed a bag, if that’s okay.” I say, glancing back at my car. He nods, sniffing slightly and then wiping his eyes.

“Thank you. I mean yeah, that’s fine. You can stay here, of course. As long as you need.” He says with relief. We head down the stairs and he suggests that I bring my stuff up now so we don’t have to do it later after the dance. So I bring my bag and my guitar up to his apartment quickly and set them in the corner of his living room. An overwhelming feeling of foreignness settles in me at that point, making me realize that I may be staying here longer than just a few days. I just hope Jean’s okay with that.

Skipping down the stairs two at a time, I head back down to my car where Jean is already seated in the passenger seat. When I take my own seat and restart the car, I suddenly feel a hand on my arm, stopping me before I shift into drive.

“Are you sure you’re okay? That looks like it really hurts.” Jean says sadly, giving me a look that’s so concerned it could give any mother a run for her mother.

“I promise I’m fine…Can you promise not to let this ruin the night?” I try my best not to beg, but it’s hard. Nothing would be worse than Jean being miserable the whole evening because of me. He sighs and then rest the side of his face against the headrest, looking at me for a long moment.

“I promise.” Jean finally says with a small grin. “You better let me take care of it tonight when we get back though.” He adds with a small smirk. 

“You’re the boss.” I chuckle, just glad to see him smiling. Then I put the car in drive. “Come on, we better to get to Eren’s house before we’re late for the group pictures.”

“Oh yeah, Krista would kill us. She wants them for her senior year scrapbook.” Jean laughs. We pull away from his apartment building and head towards Eren’s address, but there are two feelings I can’t seem to shake from my head. The first is that Jean doesn’t quite seem a hundred percent convinced that I’m fine. It’s just a slight doubtfulness lurking in his voice, and I may just be imagining it. But I’m pretty sure it’s there.

The second is this: I’m not entirely convinced that I’m fine either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst human being on the planet, but please don't hate me for it. 
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Actually no, that's not all. If you're even still reading this, which I'm surprised you are considering it's taking me on average like a month to write each chapter nowadays, I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart and let you know that I promise I'm not going to just stop writing the story suddenly. No matter how long it takes me to update, I WILL update eventually lol. P.S. when I'm taking really long and you guys post comments telling me to get my butt in gear, that actually really does help me loads! Thanks elena ;p


	13. Iridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is flirty, Eren is a superdouche/super friend, Jean takes a risk, someone is crowned homecoming king, _more risks _, so much dancing omg, and fluff galore.__  
>  _  
>  _THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG FOR ME.__  
>  _  
>  _See the end notes for information about the tumblr I made for my writing, and more of my usual bullshit.__  
> 

JEAN’S POV:

I’m in the passenger side of Marco’s car, and by the time we pull up in front of Eren and Mikasa’s house for the pre-homecoming pictures I’m surprised he hasn’t melted into a puddle right there in his seat. Every time I glance at him he looks more miserable than the last. He’s the one who told me to not let what happened with his dad ruin the night, right? So how come he’s the one sulking now?

I look out the window to see all our friends gathered out on Eren’s front lawn. If memory serves me correctly, their house was chosen for the pictures because his dad is a doctor for infectious diseases in foreign countries. So basically he’s never around, which means no embarrassing parents running here and there fixing ties or telling us to stand straighter and smile bigger.

I turn my attention back to Marco, who has turned the car off now and whose hand is hesitating over the door handle. By the rise and fall of his shoulders when he breathes deeply, I can tell he’s nervous.

“You all right?” I ask hesitantly, afraid that if I speak too loudly he’ll break right there in front of me.

“I don’t know what to tell them. I can’t tell them it was my dad.” He sighs with a shrug. Shit, he’s totally right. Telling me was one thing, but telling ten other people isn’t exactly a great way to keep a secret. In my head I can already imagine one of them, like Krista or Armin, telling the school authorities and starting a whole mess of trouble for Marco that he just doesn’t want to deal with. I nod in understanding and try to think of something to tell them.

“You could tell them you fell…down the steps.” I offer half-heartedly, not really having any grand ideas. Marco laughs dryly and then leans back in his seat.

“Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do.” He replies weakly, glancing past me and out my window at everyone else who are undoubtedly laughing and smiling and already having the time of their lives. “I’m not really looking forward to the pictures now that I look so bad.” He adds, the volume of his voice receding more and more with each word.

“Whoa, you don’t look bad. And I’m not just saying that.” I retort quickly, frowning at him. I allow myself the liberty of pointedly looking at him and taking in his whole appearance. I’m _really _not just saying that. His suit fits him exceptionally well, probably because he got it tailored just for him. Marco’s fancy like that. Underneath his jacket is a maroon, silky-looking button-up shirt. I’ve been noticing that he wears maroon and red a lot, and for good reason. He looks fucking hot in it.__

He’s also got this little, messy tuft of hair sticking up near the front of his head which I find pretty damn cute, although I know if he notices it later in the pictures he’ll be bugged by it. So I reach over and smooth it down for him, giving him a small, hopefully comforting grin.

“You look perfect.” I say truthfully, earning a wide-eyed look from Marco as his non-bruised cheek quickly turns a light shade of pink. The other is too purple already to see his blush. I’m expecting him to eventually break his frozen stare by smiling bashfully at his lap and mumbling out a thank you, but instead he frowns.

Well shit. That’s not exactly a good sign. I just figured with all the flirting he’s been doing lately, it wouldn’t be going too far if I laid it on a little thick. I’m about to open my mouth to apologize for whatever I did wrong, but he speaks first.

“You know what, you’re right. We’re both dressed up, we’re here, and our friends are here. I’ve got plenty of time to worry about my dad tomorrow, or the next day.” He says, determination flowing in his voice like an undercurrent. Then his frown transforms into what I can only describe as a smirk. It reminds me of the look I give him all the time whenever he does…well pretty much anything Marco-ish. 

“I have you to worry about today. Come on.” He says cheerfully, opening his car and hopping out. I laugh at his sudden change of attitude just from one compliment and open mine as well. As soon as I crack it I here just how loud our group of friends is being. I’m surprised Eren and Mikasa’s neighbors haven’t called the cops yet, considering how nice of a neighborhood they live in. It’s not as nice as Marco’s, but not too far off.

“Oh, and thanks.” Marco adds quickly, leaning close to my ear as we start heading over to the group. I grin to myself, not saying anything as we make our way onto the grass. The first person to notice us of course is Ymir, who says the first obnoxious, sneering comment that comes to her mind.

“Hey Jean, just because you have cancer doesn’t mean you can go around slugging people in the face, even if they do try to get with you.” She calls over, a lazy but satisfied grin on her face. She’s seated on one of stairs leading up the porch in tight fitting dress pants and a blazer, Krista perching promptly on her lap in a pink dress so sparkly I think it rivals the sun itself. I know she means no harm but I still feel the metaphorical steam begin to blow out of my ears. Marco on the other hand just laughs, because you know, he’s fucking perfect.

“Relax, she’s just joking.” He whispers before we get too close to the group.

“I am relaxed.” I hiss back at him, just causing him to give me an amused look and grab a hold of one of my hands.

“Then how come you look like you actually _are _going to punch someone?” He points out, prying my fingers out of the fist they’re apparently balled up in and smoothing them out. Before I can respond, Sasha and Connie are rushing over to us. Marco lets go of my hand as they get up to us.__

“Shit Marco, that looks bad! Jean, did you really punch him?” He asks, his eyes looking like they’re about ready to pop out of his head. I roll mine eyes but Marco answers him before I can decide whether or not I want to dignify his ridiculous question with a response.

“No, Jean didn’t hit me. I just fell down the steps this morning and knocked my face against the bottom of the railing.” Marco says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Damn, considering how flustered he was in the car, he’s pretty good at pulling this off.

“Damn, that sucks! Did you go to the hospital or anything?” He continues to ask loads of questions, practically interrogating Marco as we all walk together and join the whole group. Marco’s probably scared that he’s caught him in a lie, but I know better than anyone that Connie just loves hearing about anything gruesome or painful. He’s a great guy but he’s simple minded and all about cheap thrills. That’s probably why he’s been my best friend since pretty much the beginning of time, well besides Marco now of course.

“Hey, good looking.” I hear behind me. I turn around and Eren is coming up to me with Mikasa in tow, and they look like they’re right out of a magazine. Eren’s got that tan skin, which contrasts with Mikasa’s pale, flawless, porcelain doll look. She’s wearing a dark purple, simple dress with a plunging neckline. Just like all of her other dresses, it goes all the way down to her feet. Even I can’t help but stare at her for a few moments.

“Hey, she’s taken. Remember?” Eren warns me, planting himself between the two of us. I can tell by his tone of voice that he’s joking so I just roll my eyes.

“I know that. I have a date. Sorry Mikasa, guess you’re stuck with this loser.” I joke, getting a small chuckle out of her. She plants a small kiss on Eren’s cheek when he begins to pout and then leaves to go mingle with the others.

“So, how are the clothes fitting you?” Eren asks a little louder than necessary, giving me a satisfied, devious look. I seethe internally and whip my head around to make sure Marco didn’t hear him. Luckily he’s chatting away with Bertholdt and Reiner right now.

“Would you shut up!?” I whisper urgently, knowing he’s just doing it to get me mad. Okay so here’s the scoop. I may have not exactly had the cash to go buy nice clothes for today dance, and Eren may or may have not loaned me some of his clothes. It’s a damn miracle that his dad made a mistake and bought dress pants that were too long for him for Christmas one year, because there is no way I’d be at homecoming trying to impress Marco in a pair of high-waters.

Not sexy.

“I’m sorry, I’m just fucking with you. I barely see you anymore man, so when I do I have to get it out my system.” He laughs, holding his hands up in mock defense.

“All right, well are you done?”

“Yeah I’m done. I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your boy toy.” He says, jumping back just in case I decide to throttle him. When I don’t and I just frown silently at him instead. He raises his hand to his mouth to cover up a cheeky “ooh” after he assumes what my silence and lack of denial means.

“And I won’t tell anyone about that either.” He whispers, laughing heartily afterwards. Then he bows as he backs away. “Now I’m done.” He announces happily, turning to go find Mikasa again. I sigh and roll my eyes, deciding I should sit down before my legs give out on me. I feel like every time I get too excited or upset, my body decides that’s the best time to call me up and remind me that I have cancer.

Eren’s a fucking asshole, but at least there is one thing about him I like. He doesn’t treat me any differently because I’m sick, which is something that’s hard to find these days in my group of friends from high school. And whenever I do need him he always does pull through, like the whole clothes situation.

I guess at the end of the day he’s actually one of my best friends, even if we kind of hate each other. A prickle of worry finds its way to the back of my mind at what he said, but I try not to let it fester. He made it sound as if he knew I’m gay, but that’s impossible because I’ve never told anyone.

Eh, he was messing around. He’s called me gay, a girl, or things along those lines hundreds of times. I don’t have to worry.

Just as I take a seat on the porch, easing myself down as slowly as possibly so I don’t bust my ass on the frigid concrete, one of the girls announces that it’s picture time. And then everyone gets up…Ugh, what the fuck, I literally just sat down! Thankfully before I even start tackling the job of getting up, Marco appears in front of me and comes to the rescue.

“Here.” Is all he says, bending down and sliding his arm under mine and around my back. I never understood how he always manages to be so gentle with me at all times, but I barely feel myself being lifted. He lets go of me as soon as I’m upright, knowing I don’t want to be babied in front of my friends. He’s right, even though I do love having his arm around me.

“Okay, girls first!” Krista declares, handing her huge, totally overkill camera to Eren. He looks like he doesn’t even know what to do with it by the way he’s holding it and it’s pretty funny. All the girls get in a line on the lawn, facing slightly to the left and putting one hand on their hip. They all look really good, even Annie who is surprisingly wearing a little black dress. I honestly half expected her to wear her off-white hoodie, considering she usually never takes the damn thing off. That’s when I remember that her date is Armin, who is standing a few feet behind me and is staring at her with a soft smile on his face.

Huh, from their personalities you’d never expect them to get together, but they both are really smart so I guess it does make sense. Also, from what I can remember Armin’s always sort of seen through Annie’s exterior. He can understand what she’s really thinking even if she doesn’t want to share it. I personally can never tell what she’s plotting, but I’m glad they found each other.

Once the girls’ pictures are all taken, it’s time for the boys. We all get in a line, Marco on my left and Reiner towering over me on my right. This time Krista is taking the picture, all smiles and giggles as she tells us to “say cheese!”

Then when it comes time for the couples picture, that’s when problems start to arise. Krista starts setting up the camera on a tripod while instructing all the girls to join the group and all the dates to get together, boys in the back.

Well fuck, both Marco and I are boys last time I checked. I glance at him helplessly and then Reiner taps me on the shoulder from my other side.

“Chill out.” He advises me. Then Bertholdt moves out of his spot in line and comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his shoulder. Well great, that settles things for them, but I’m still fucking clueless. Oh and by the way, since when are Reiner and Bertholdt a thing? I’ll have to revisit that later.

“Are you the boy or am I the boy?” I hiss at Marco, obviously a lot more stressed about this than he is, judging by the amused chuckle and shrug he turns to me with.

“I don’t know, you choose.” He replies, his palms upturned. Dammit, Marco’s usually the one with the answers.

“Fuck that, I’m not choosing.” I whisper urgently, just eliciting another laugh out of him. Apparently he finds my frustration hilarious. After letting out a groan and rubbing my temple, I throw up my hands in defeat. 

“Fine dammit, you be the boy then since you’re taller.” I say, stepping in front of him. Makes sense right? That’s how I’m assuming Bert and Reiner decided. Just in time too, because Krista finishes setting up the camera and then stands up straight, clasping her hands together.

“Okay, I want this to be a really nice one so we should all look the same. So ladies, plus Jean and Reiner,” I feel a blush immediately envelope my face at that one, while Reiner just barks out a loud laugh. “I want you to fold your hands together in front of you.” She explains. I do what she says, hoping everyone is listening to her and not paying attention to how red my face is now.

“And boys, plus my lovely Ymir,” Krista pauses to give her girlfriend a wink. “Reach around your date and put your hands over theirs. It’ll look so cute in the picture, trust me!” She declares happily. Just as I feel my blush starting to fade and I begin to calm down, Marco reaches around and gently places his hands over mine. Well so much for calming the fuck down.

It’s not even so much the fact that he’s holding my hands, because honestly he kind of does that a lot lately. Whenever I’m upset or worried about something he’ll usually end up touching my hand to comfort me. So I’m used to that. What I’m _not _used to is the feeling of his body pressed up behind me. Yeah, that’s a new one. His chest is warm against my back and I bet if I backed up even an inch my ass would be right against his…okay let’s not go there right now. Anyway, the feeling of him holding me like this has got me so flustered, I don’t even notice how I’m reacting to it. So when Marco suddenly leans his forehead against the back of my shoulder and starts shaking slightly, it takes me a few bewildered moments to realize that he’s laughing. At me.__

“Hold on, the camera’s acting up. Don’t move!” Krista says, frowning down at her contraption and playing around with the buttons. 

“What?” I whisper to Marco, who’s still laughing.

“I’m sorry, it just feels like you’re about to explode, you’re that tense. Are you even breathing?” He chuckles quietly. I nudge my arm back and elbow him in the ribs, causing him to just laugh even harder.

“Shut up.” I grumble, feeling a slight grin tug at the downturned corners of my mouth for some reason. I think it’s his laugh that’s doing it. He’s always had an adorable laugh. After a moment I feel him crane his head around to look at me.

“Oh, is that a smile I see?” He teases me quietly. Okay Marco, that is not helping at all! Does he not realize how hot it is when he jokes with me in that rare, sarcastic tone of his? I swear he can hear me swallow as I try to regain some form of composure. What’s got him so God damn giddy?

“I’m just trying to get you to relax. I mean come on, we slept on your couch together. This isn’t that big a deal.” He whispers close to my ear so that nobody else hears him. I suck in a deep, shaky breath as quietly as I can so he doesn’t notice, but I’m sure he can probably still feel my body expand with my inhalation considering he’s right up against me.

“I know that.” I answer back, my voice hushed. Luckily before he can say anything to else to embarrass me, Krista lets out a victorious hoot, suggesting that she’s won the battle with her rebellious camera.

“Okay, we’re back in business! I’m setting the timer for ten seconds, so keep smiling until after the camera flashes.” She commands before pressing a button and then skittering excitedly over to Ymir’s waiting arms. I paste a fake smile onto my face like I do for all pictures, because that’s just how I am. 

But just before the camera flashes, Marco’s hands press into mine, pulling me slightly back and closer to him. I let out a small, extremely embarrassing gasp that I’m sure he hears, but then find myself relaxing against his warm body as his head leans against the side of mine slightly. 

A real smile comes onto my face at that point because right now it feels as if we actually are a real couple, and we’re not just going to homecoming as friends…But then again, we never really did discuss if this is a date or not. I’ve been trying my best not to overthink it and to just let things take their course. Because like I was thinking the night I stood up to his dad, telling him I like him could ruin everything and leave me alone once again.

However, with the way he’s acting, I don’t know how this night is going to go now.

Krista’s camera flashes and then everyone lets go of each other and conversations and laughter fill up the lawn once again. The once thing I notice though is the second or two of hesitation before Marco’s hands leave mine. Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that Freckles. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When we get to the school and are all showing our tickets to the teachers in order to get inside, Marco is no longer a puddle, but a bouncy-ball full of energy.

“I’ve never been to a dance before.” He tells me eagerly as we’re waiting in line. I’m about to laugh at him for being a shut-in when I remember that it’s probably because of his dad. He’s been rubbing off on me and I’ve been starting to think before I speak.

“They’re really fun as long as you’re with the right people.” I say, remembering some dance in middle school that I went to with a girl who I couldn’t stand but I went anyway because I was trying really hard to deny to myself that I liked boys. She was even ruder than me and laughed way too loud. I’m pretty sure I just left early and walked home. Good times.

“Well I’m definitely with the right people.” Marco replies happily, gesturing to all of our friends and then at me. I grin because who wouldn’t while seeing him so damn happy? The sun is setting now and we’re outside the entrance to the gym at the high school. I take a moment to look at the tall, brick building, splashed orange with the sunrays. I haven’t been here in so damn long.

Then I look back to Marco, who is still smiling at me. In the late evening light his eyes are a bright caramel color, although his left is starting to look a bit swollen now. I can barely see his freckles on that side of his face because the bruise on his cheek has darkened in color. 

And yet…he’s still so fucking handsome. Every time we look at each other like this I get that feeling in my gut, you know, the one where you just want to grab someone by their face and kiss them for the rest of eternity? Yeah, that one.

Marco suddenly breaks our locked gaze and hands our tickets to the teacher standing at the door. And believe it or not, it’s Mr. Smith, my track coach from when I went here. He also teaches advanced anatomy and physiology, but I never took that shit. I’m not that smart.

“Jean! Wow, it’s so good to see you!” He exclaims when he notices me, his thick eyebrows raising in surprise and delight. It’s pretty funny to see him all dressed up considering I’m used to seeing him in running shorts and a t-shirt (when he felt like wearing one, which was rarely). I have to keep myself from chuckling at his dumb ass looking bolo tie. He runs a hand through his neatly parted blonde hair and then casts his gaze to Marco next to me.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were involved with Marco here. He’s my star pupil!” He says with an over-the-top grin. I don’t say anything because I know that Marco is going to immediately go into a stuttering fit of denying and explain that we’re not together and that we’re just friends.

But my mind is absolutely blown when all he does is smile and thank Coach Smith for the compliment, saying that he only does so well in his class because he’s such a good teacher. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Stop everything.

What the fuck does that mean?

Coach Smith bids us goodbye and tells us to enjoy the dance, but I barely hear him because I’m busy staring dumbly at Marco. I follow him inside wordlessly, trying to figure out what just happened. When we enter the gymnasium, the both of us can’t help but pause to look around at the extravagantly decorated room. It’s starry night themed, like every other school’s homecoming in the history of the world, but hey it actually doesn’t look half bad. What must be thousands of strands of white Christmas lights are lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling, along with black curtains that totally change the landscape of the gym. Even the floors are decorated and all kinds of other decorations like fake clouds and little stars are hanging everywhere. At least there aren’t any balloon arches. Nobody likes that shit.

“Over here!” I hear called from our right. Connie is beckoning the two of us over where he and most of our other friends are gathered at one of the tables. The music is low and the lights are up because many people are still coming in, so we spend the first twenty minutes or so just talking. However, I’m really distracted from my conversation with Marco because out of the corner of my eye I start to notice Eren fucking staring at me from a few feet away. Not the casual oops-I-was-staring-into-space-and-my-eyes-happened-to-land-on-you staring. It’s full blown, wide-eyed, eyebrows furrowed staring. I kind of want to go over and ask him what his problem is but I’m not really in the mood to start any trouble with him right now, not when I have Marco here in front of me animatedly talking about how he used to dance with his brother but he hasn’t for a while now, so he’s probably rusty.

“I’ve never danced, like ever. So don’t worry.” I assure him with a chuckle. Marco’s face practically lights up like a damn bulb at that.

“Oh! Well my brother showed me all kinds of stuff before he left for college because he’s really into it. He’s a musical theater major now, so he has to dance all the time.” His excitement transforms into a sort of embarrassed grin. “So I could show you a little if you want.” He suggests, scratching the back of his head unsurely. I laugh, trying to ignore Eren in the corner of my eye who is _still fucking looking at me._

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. You’ll have to show me all your moves.” I joke, causing him to laugh out loud.

“I wouldn’t say I have moves. I just vaguely know how to dance.” He objects. Just then, Reiner calls Marco over to him. He glances at me as if he’s waiting for permission, but I chuckle and tell him to go. Jeez, he’s really acting like we’re really dating. Although I’m not going to lie, I guess I kind of am too considering I’m way more bummed that he’s not here with me anymore than I should be. But that’s okay, because I can go figure out what Eren’s damn problem is now.

I turn and head right for him, causing him to flinch when he realizes I’m coming for him. What, is he fucking stupid? Who else would I be heading towards when he’s been staring me down for five minutes straight?

“What do you want?” I ask in the most annoyed voice I can possibly muster. I’m waiting for some snarky response, but instead he just continues staring at me, looking confused as ever.

“Dude, hello?” I ask, growing impatient. That finally gets his eyes to come into focus. 

“Are you and Marco like…together?” He asks suddenly. Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I raise an eyebrow and decide that instead of denying it, I should just get to the bottom of this.

“Why do you ask?” I inquire with a frown. He opens his mouth to answer but then recloses it with a quiet curse under his breath. Then he grabs my arm and whisks me away from the rest of the group. I follow him with a sigh of exasperation, but I don’t complain. I get that Marco and I are dates to the dance, but I thought everyone understood that due to Connie’s backstabbing ass, I had to find a different date, which happened to be Marco. I wasn’t just blowing smoke when I said that I literally knew no other girls that didn’t already have dates. 

Once we’re over by the wall and out of earshot of our friends, Eren lets go of my arm. I fold my arms across my chest and await what oh-so-interesting thing he had to say away from everyone else.

“I read your diary.” Eren suddenly blurts out…Wait, what? 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I haven’t even kept a diary since–“

“Freshman year.” Eren interrupts me, an ashamed look on his face. I halt, because I did have a diary freshman year, and I wrote a lot of shit in that thing.

“Are you shitting me?” I ask, feeling a surge of anger rise up in my chest. Eren raises his hands up in defense.

“I know, I know. It was a fucked up thing to do. It was one of the times you slept over.” 

“Dude, what the fuck? Why are you telling me this now?” I ask. Like really, if he’s been staring at me for how long he should have noticed that I’m actually having a good time for once. Does he really have to go and ruin it by bringing up random shit to piss me off?

“Because…Okay, please don’t hate me. I found out you like guys when I read it, which is totally cool dude. I don’t even care about stuff like that.” He takes a pause in his babbling, peering up at me with fearful, teal eyes that tell me that there’s more than just that. “And uh, remember last year when you and I got in that huge ass fight and you told Mikasa that I peeped on her and watched her change?”

“You _did _watch her change. What does this have to do with any…” I trail off when I realize what he’s getting at. I told one of his secrets, so he must have told one of mine. “Eren, you did not.” I say threateningly. He just nods slowly, his gaze remaining glued to the floor. I throw my hands up in the air with a groan of frustration.__

“Who’d you tell?” I ask after taking a moment to keep myself from wrapping my eager fingers around his little neck. 

“Kind of everyone in our group of friends. But that’s not the reason I wanted to tell you.”

“What, there’s more? Jesus Christ Eren.” I find a chair nearby and sit down in it to catch my breath. He’s getting me too damn worked up. Eren follows me, wringing his hands nervously, something he rarely does. 

“Well, spill.” I sigh, rubbing my temples to ward off the impending headache that’s coming my way. I glare at Eren, not even able to guess what more he could have for me. I don’t even know if I’m pissed at him anymore. I’m just annoyed at this point. Apparently all my friends have already known I’m gay for the past year. That’s awesome, just great. The only reason I’m not furious with Eren is because in the back of my mind I’m slightly comforted by the fact that they don’t seem bothered by it at all.

“Marco knows too.” 

The superbly decorated gym around me seems to tilt a bit as my world doesn’t quite come crashing down, but large gaping fissures crack their way through its foundations. My eyes widen and I stare at Eren in disbelief, trying to replay his words in my head just to make sure I heard them right. It takes a few moments for my head to remind me that the person I’m staring at is the one who just gave me this news. And once my thoughts click back into place, boy am I fucking pissed.

“Eren, what the fuck!?” I exclaim loudly, letting my hands fall into my lap in defeat. Thank God the music has gotten somewhat louder now, or else everyone else would have heard me from over at the table where they’re all still gathered. 

“I’m sorry man, it just slipped out by accident one day. I totally forgot that he didn’t know.”

“What day? When exactly did you tell him?” I ask furiously, fighting the urge to stand up and knock him the fuck out. 

“I don’t know, like a week before your birthday party. Sometime around then. Why does it matter?” He asks incredulously. 

“Because I fucking like him, you dumbass. And I really would have liked to tell him myself.” I sigh heavily after that, closing my eyes for a moment and resisting the urge to break into tears as they suddenly begin to fill up whatever space lurks behind my eyes. 

A week before my birthday party…only about two weeks after we met. That means he’s known almost the whole time we’ve been friends. Shit, I can’t believe this. I glance over at Marco who is talking with Reiner, and he catches my eye for a split second and shoots me a small grin. 

What’s he thought of me this whole time?

“Jean, come on. It’s not that big a deal.” Eren tries to console me. He’s horrible at it might I add.

“Leave me alone. If it’s not a big deal then why’d you feel the need to tell me in the first place?” I growl up at him. He takes a deep breath and then kneels in front of me. I lean back and fold my arms. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m going to say yes if you propose.” I deadpan, causing him to roll his eyes and set a hand on my knee anyway.

“Shut up. Listen, I wanted to tell you so that you could go have fun tonight without having to worry about keeping this a secret from Marco and the rest of us. I mean it’s obvious he likes you back so you don’t really have anything to worry about now, right?”

“How do you know he likes me back?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. Eren just laughs and stands back up. He doesn’t forget to call me a hopeless loser though before he heads back over to Mikasa’s side. I remain glued to that chair for a few extra minutes after he leaves, just thinking over what he just told me.

A whirlwind of emotions is running through me, rooting me to my spot. The anger with Eren is surprisingly fading somehow, probably because I guess it was honest of him to come and tell me the truth. Although it’s remarkably fucked up that he even read my diary in the first place, even for him. Not to mention he told all of my friends, especially Marco. Yeah, I’m not going to exactly just let that one go like all the other shit that he’s done to mess with me over the years. He definitely owes me for this one.

But still, my mind can’t get off the fact that Marco has known literally this whole time and hasn’t said a word. Does that mean that it doesn’t bother him? I mean I guess not if he still hangs out with me as much as he does and is willing to stay over my place and share the couch with me and all that. And at this point he does sort of act like he likes me a lot, now that Eren mentions it. Just earlier he was totally flirting with me when we were taking the pictures, I can’t deny that.

Damn, maybe it’s time that I admit that Marco actually could like me.

That realization isn’t as uplifting and glorious as I expected it to be, because there’s still one problem, and it’s a big one…Me. I lift my head to look at Marco who is heading over to me now and feel my stomach leap up into my throat. A worried look furrows his brow, probably because I’m sitting over here all by myself away from the rest of the group. I grant myself one last glance down at my lap as I try to figure out a game plan.

Can I do this? Can I make the next step? Even though Eren has assured me that everything is fine and all signs do point to yes, I can’t shake the feeling that this is a huge risk and that if things don’t go the right way I’ll lose him as a friend. The same sinking feeling is filling up my chest as the time when I had to decide whether or not to restart chemo again. I remember the tears in Marco’s swimmy, brown eyes, and I try to recall what he said to me that made me finally agree to it.

_“Give me a chance...to convince you that your life is worth living, and that you’re worth loving. Please…just start the chemo. I won’t let you down.” ___

Well, I guess I’ll just have to convince him to give me a chance too then. I can’t guarantee him that I won’t let him down, because I’ve never been the best at keeping promises. But if he really thinks I’m worth loving, then maybe, just maybe he could bring himself to love someone like me.

“Hey, are you feeling sick?” Marco asks me quietly when he reaches where I’m seated, taking a moment to scour the gymnasium, probably for somewhere to get me a drink.

“Nah, I’m fine.” I assure him with a weak smile, looking up at the galaxy of freckles on his good cheek that are pulled down slightly by his frown. He’s so…I can’t even think of one word to describe him. Perfect is too cliché. I guess he’s just good. Marco is a good person in every single way. I can’t say for anyone else I’ve met, especially me.

“Why are you still sitting over here then?” He asks in the gentlest voice anyone could possibly imagine. There’s not a hint of accusation or judgment lurking there. No, he simply wants to make sure I’m okay. That’s what he’s always been about. Even almost two months ago when he was begging me to fight for my life, he just wanted me to be okay.

How did I weigh the pros and cons back then? It was such a hard decision, and I know now that it was worth it and that I made the right choice. I thought of it as a risk on life, while this time it’s more of a risk on happiness. I could either lose him totally or finally have him in the way I’ve wanted since the first day I met him.

Is it worth the risk?

“Jean, are you okay?” Marco asks after I don’t answer him for a few moments, dragging me out of my thoughts. I stare up at his flawless face and wonder just how much of a relief it would be to finally stop hiding my feelings from him and to just let myself be open completely. It’d be the first time I’d ever truly be myself for anyone, ever. 

All throughout my life I’ve hidden bits and pieces of me from my friends, my coworkers, my teachers, my doctors and nurses, and my mom. Maybe it’s about time one person finally knew all of the real me. Marco knows more of me than anyone else, but he’s not quite there. The shame is still there. It’ll always be there until I just talk with him about it and I’m honest with him.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never loved myself. How could I when I don’t even have anyone to validate whether or not I’m a good person or not? Nobody knows who I am. So I ask myself again, is it worth the risk?

“Jean?” Marco asks again, a fearful look in his eyes now. He’s crouching in front of me now. How long have I just been staring at him and not answering him? I’ve been so completely lost in thought I haven’t even been paying attention. I feel his hands find their way to mine in my lap, but I can’t bring myself to tear my eyes away from his.

“What’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on.” Marco insists in a hushed, urgent whisper. When his hands squeeze mine tightly, that’s what eventually brings me out of my odd stupor. I shut my eyes tightly for a moment and then blink a few times, bringing them into focus.

“Sorry, you were right. I was feeling a little sick. I’m better now though, just dazed out for a sec there.” I assure him with a little white lie. A small sigh of relief escapes his lips and he leans his head back slightly.

“You scared me, jeez.” He breathes before starting to stand back up. His hands start to slide out of mine, but I grip them tighter, catching his attention. He looks down at me with a slightly confused look before kneeling back down to my level. I inhale deeply, gathering my courage.

Last chance Jean, is it worth the risk?

“You…” I pause to swallow and gather my courage. “You knew the whole time.” I croak out, my voice betraying how nervous I am. He cocks his head slightly to the right, frowning.

“Knew what?” This is it, this is it, _this is it. _I hope my fear isn’t visible in my face.__

“That I’m gay. Eren told you.” I clarify, despite every fiber of my being screaming for me to shut my damn mouth. My reply causes a look of both surprise and remorse to immediately come onto his face. He looks as if he’s hurt on my behalf.

“Jean, let me explain. I didn’t say anything becau–“ I cut him off, waving a hand lazily between our faces.

“I’m not mad. I’m just telling you that I know you know. Plus I already get why you didn’t say anything. I would have gotten pretty upset if you just waltzed into the hospital one day and told me you knew I like guys after I’ve been trying to hide it from everyone since middle school.” I explain in a surprisingly calm manner, Marco just staring at me in response. Eventually his eyes fall to the floor and he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it. A lightheaded feeling makes its way through my upper body like a fog, despite my confident and nonchalant front.

“What?” I ask, able to tell by his look that whatever he has to say is important.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.” I argue, getting him to meet my gaze again. He looks fucking terrified. Marco takes a deep, shaky breath and stands up. I let him go this time, watching as he walks a few feet away to grab another chair and he plants it next to mine and sits in it. Good, at first I thought he was just going to walk away in the middle of a conversation. He sighs heavily and props his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands.

“There’s another reason why I didn’t say anything about me knowing.” He practically moans into his palms. Regret is obvious is every lilt of his voice and every bend of his body. I feel myself stiffen, sitting up a bit straighter as I begin to wonder if I really want to know what he’s about to say. 

I feel like the last two months have culminated up to this moment, which is why my heart is pounding away dangerously fast inside my frail chest and my breath keeps almost catching at the top of my throat. I’ve been dancing around my feelings for him, pretending they’re not there some days, unable to do anything but fantasize about him on others. He’s still got his face buried in his hands, but I can see the redness on the tip of his ear, where his hair is just shy of whisking over it. Why, even now when I’m waiting for him to possibly tell me something that could either make or break our friendship, am I still thinking about how cute he is?

“I think I’m gay too.” He finally admits after a few moments of silence. Wait, wait, wait, hold everything. My heart seizes itself into a tension-filled ball of rubber bands and my eyebrows shoot up to the top of my forehead, as the breath that kept getting caught in my throat before is completely pushed out of me in a violent, involuntary exhale. I glance around me, but nope. No fireworks are going off, no marching band parading by. Huh, they must have not gotten the memo.

“You think?” I ask quietly, not being a dick or anything. I’m just confused by what he means by that.

“Well it’s um been a…recent change.” He says through muffled hands, which are completely covering his face now in mortification. The parts that I can see are completely red though. A recent change? If that means what I think it means, it sounds like a hell of a confirmation to me. My stomach curls up around my heart somehow.

“Oh.” I respond, smooth as always. He turns his head to the side, looking at me with that bruised left eye of his, desperation lurking in his gaze. Marco’s wants something from me. Assurance? Acceptance? Support? I’m not good with words, never have been. He’s always been the one who knows what to say and when to say it. Yeah, I’m great if he ever needs a loose cannon to go scream at his dad for him again, but that’s about all I’m good for. 

“I’m cool with that you know.” I offer helplessly. The wise words of Jean Kirstein. But somehow, it actually manages to coax his hands off of his face and elicit a chuckle from him. 

“Well I sure would hope that my gay best friend would be okay with me being gay. That would just plain suck if you weren’t.” He jokes, leaning back in his chair. I laugh at that, because he’s right. What I said was dumb as hell.

“Sorry. I’m shit with words, you know that.” I admit, getting him to smile at me. 

“I know.” Marco agrees, letting out a small sigh that seems more contented than anything else. As we fall into silence to watch the many students who have gathered on the dance floor at this point, I find myself wondering one thing. If he already assumed I was okay with him being gay, then why was he so nervous to tell me in the first place? Although the more I ponder it, the more I think I already know the answer. There’s so much more I want to say, and a ton more I want to ask him, but now suddenly seems like the wrong time.

“Hey, you want to show me how to dance now?” I ask eventually, breaking the wordless stretch between us. Marco’s face lights up at that and he immediately stands up out of his chair and takes off his suit jacket.

“Yeah, come on.” He says happily, holding out his hand to me. I take my jacket off as well and then let him pull me up, following him out to where all of our friends are dancing now. I have no idea what song is playing because let’s face it, I’ve kind of been out of the loop for a while when it comes to popular music. There was no way I’d be in the hospital listening to shitty radio music, so I just listened to my iPod. Now I’ve missed the past five months of “Top 40” charts and all that good stuff. 

Oh well, I still remember the Cha-Cha Slide since the dance instructions are the lyrics, so I’ll just rock that one when it comes on. And it _will _come on, or else there’s going to be a problem.__

“Hey, look who decided to join us!” Connie calls out from behind Sasha, who is doing some weird ass dance in front of him. She’s not even grinding, which would still gross me out but at least I’d understand it. She’s just…Okay it’s just fucking weird. I can’t even explain it. I don’t know how dancing works, but I don’t see anyone else doing it and I feel like I’m violating their privacy just by glancing at them.

“Rule number one, don’t do that. Ever.” Marco whispers to me, gesturing towards them discretely as he rolls up his shirtsleeves. Why does he look so hot when he does that?

“Awe, I was hoping you’d teach me that one too.” I joke, getting an adorable giggle from him in return. “I don’t even know what the fuck that is.” I continue, laughing with him as we find a spot for ourselves on the dance floor. We’re not too far off from Ymir and Krista, who look like they could be on Dancing with the Stars. They’ve always been one of those show-off couples though. I heard Krista actually made Ymir take dance classes with her, and Ymir obliged because she enjoys being better than everyone else. Krista just wanted to do it for fun, but hey I applaud her for actually getting Ymir to do anything besides sit on her ass. The chick is even lazier than I am, and that’s saying something. I mean seriously, I have cancer.

“All right, what’s rule number two?” I ask Marco loudly over the music. He leans close to my ear and even though I know it’s just so he doesn’t have to yell, I can’t help the somersault in my abdomen at the gesture.

“About that…there aren’t any more rules,” He exclaims happily, taking a hold of my right hand. “You just have fun.” He backs away a few inches and lifts my hand to twirl me around. I awkwardly spin, ducking under his arm with a chuckle. Marco then proceeds to move easily with the beat, eyeing me expectantly.

“You said you were going to teach me!” I whine, making sure he can see the pout in my lower lip. He waves off my complaint and shakes his head.

“I lied.” He says with a tinge of giddiness in his tone. Then he grabs my other hand as well and pulls me into some sort of dance that I eventually get the hang of after a minute or two of me watching his feet with what I’m sure is a half murderous, half concentrated expression on my face. The whole time Marco just beams at me with that flawless face of his, even with the black eye and steadily darkening bruising – still flawless. And he looks so damn _happy _.__

The time gets away from me as we dance together through each song that comes on. It’s just a flurry of me trying to keep up with his movements, us occasionally falling into uncontrollable fits of laughter, and mostly that all-encompassing grin of his. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him this happy before. I don’t even know if happy is the right word anymore. He looks…overjoyed.

I know he said he likes dancing, but I doubt that’s the only explanation for his demeanor. It must have been what we talked about earlier. What we both sort of half admitted if you squint your eyes and tilt your head enough. It has to be, right?

Right in the middle of me working up the nerve to ask him about it, I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder. I look over my shoulder just in time to be grabbed violently by Sasha and ripped away from Marco.

“Mind if I cut in for a bit? I haven’t danced with my Jean-boy in forever!” She exclaims, placing my hand on her waist and holding my other in a classic waltz position. Well I guess I’m not totally clueless about dancing. I’m just glad she’s not dancing on me the same way she was with Connie. I have no clue how I’d react to something like that.

I’d probably run away and never talk to her again. Sounds like me.

Looking desperately back at Marco who just looks amused, I mouth an apology to him. He waves it off as he’s approached by an eager Krista who takes his hand with a little bounce in her step. I guess everyone is switching up partners. 

“So, how are you and Fight-Club doing?” Sasha asks suddenly as we sway easily to the lazy beat of the current Latin-sounding song that has just started. I start to bristle at the stupid nickname she has donned on Marco, but have to remind myself that she doesn’t know the real reason for his black eye. After huffing shortly, I raise an eyebrow at her questioningly.

“We’re fine I guess. What do you mean?”

“I mean are you two a thing yet or not?” Sasha asks with a conniving smirk before I surprise her with a steep dip, leaning her back and relishing in the momentary look of surprise on her face.

“Shut up.” I warn her before returning her to a standing position. She giggles heavily, slapping me lightly on the shoulder. I inhale heavily, kind of wishing I hadn’t done that. She’s a little heavier than she looks, and I’m even weaker than I appear.

“Oh come on, don’t be so embarrassed. Everyone already knows! You guys are a lot more obvious than you think. Besides, Eren gave the okay to talk to you about it now.” Sasha points out, making my face heat up slightly. In an attempt to avoid the conversation somehow I cast another glance back at my date, who is in the midst of doing what looks like a professional, choreographed dance with little Krista. I know it wasn’t planned, but they just look that good. And Marco…well he looks fucking fantastic. He lifts Krista and places her on the other side of him before whipping around taking her hand and spinning her around like he did with me earlier, except she’s graceful in the way she twirls like a ballerina under his arm. Then she presses herself close to him again and they resume their rhythmic swaying to the beat.

I’d probably be jealous if he didn’t literally just tell me that he’s gay less than an hour ago. But no, right now I’m just amazed at how elegant he looks. How is this guy seriously so good at everything? He’s a genius, he sings, he plays guitar, and apparently he’s an expert dancer too. My chest tightens when Marco’s eyes flit to me for a fraction of a second and he catches me watching him. I avert my eyes to the floor after that, but not after noticing the timid smile that comes onto Marco’s face as he averts his as well.

“Uh, Earth to Jean?” I hear close to my head. Turning back around, I come face to face with an extremely pointed look from Sasha.

“ _As I was saying, _you and Marco like each other. Which you just proved by staring at him for a full minute and then blushing.” She states the obvious, just making me feel even more stupid than I already do.__

“All right, all right. You got me.”

“Sooooo?” She exaggerates the ‘o’ in a distinctly Sasha-like way that grates my nerves. I roll my eyes and resume our dance, which suddenly seems so half-assed in light of Marco and Krista’s just a few feet away. 

“I’m working on it, okay?” I grumble, earning an excited squeal from her. I sigh in response, wishing everyone would just stay out my personal life for a half a second tonight. Thankfully, the song ends at that moment and the sound of someone clearing his throat over the loudspeaker effectively ends my conversation with Sasha. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’re all having a wonderful time at this year’s homecoming dance.” A monotone, unexcited voice says. I look up to see Principal Ackerman standing up on the stage, looking an uninterested as ever with a microphone in hand. The dancing has stopped and all the students swarm towards the stage quickly, shoving me awfully close to Sasha and inconveniently away from Marco, who I lose sight of for a moment.

“It’s that time of night. Time to announce the homecoming king and queen.” He continues, earning a cheer from everyone down on the decorated gym floor. Meanwhile, I can’t find Marco at all. I’m whipping my head around trying to search the sea of students for his familiar black hair and the maroon collar of his shirt, but I can’t find him anywhere. The only checkpoint I can make out in the low lighting is the back of Bertholdt’s towering head maybe ten feet in front of me, which doesn’t exactly help that much. After standing on my toes for a few moments and probably looking really stupid, I sigh and resort to frowning disappointedly. I know it’s not the end of the world that I’m not with him. But I don’t know…I just think it’s dumb that I have to stand here and be bored without him during this king and queen bullshit when he’s my date.

For the next minute or so I listen to Principal Ackerman drone on about the wonderful turn out for the event and how we should all give a big thanks to the student events club for decorating the gym. A fog is beginning to settle in my head and I’m starting to feel a little faint, probably from exerting so much energy into dancing for over an hour. I consider grabbing onto Sasha’s arm for balance, but my pride isn’t quite willing to let me show that kind of weakness to one of my friends from school just yet.

“Sorry I lost you for a second there. Krista’s on the homecoming court, so I was walking her to the front.” I hear behind me suddenly in a voice that is definitely Marco’s. I turn around and there he is, all smiles and freckles. And me? I’m filled with relief, but the expression I give him must not match it, because he soon frowns and leans close to me.

“Are you okay?” Marco asks so that I’m the only one who hears. I glance over at Sasha who is somehow completely absorbed in whatever Mr. Ackerman is babbling on about. 

“Yeah…Just a little spent.” 

“Do you need to sit down?” He goes on with a knowing look, but I shake my head. Marco sighs in defeat at that, but lets me turn around anyway to refocus on the stage where the homecoming court are walking on now. He’s always worrying about me, always taking care of me. Tonight I actually want him to have fun for once and quit…

My thoughts fizzle out in my brain when he wraps his right arm around me gently, pulling me close to his side. Before I have a chance to get my mind working again, my body reacts on its own accord and my tired head leans itself on his shoulder. With his firm arm encircling me, I allow myself to let some of my weight lean on him. Marco, as usual, keeps me balanced when I can’t quite keep myself upright. 

Principal Ackerman’s words blend together into one long, mumbling slur on the edge of my focus as my eyes fall closed. This is nice…Really nice. Marco’s so warm, and the way he’s protectively holding me is slightly reminiscent of when we woke up together on my couch those few weeks ago.

It’s wishful thinking, but I wonder if we’ll sleep together like that again tonight.

Applause erupts around us and I crack open one eye to see Mikasa walking up to accept a crown. Looks like she’s the homecoming queen. That’s good; she deserves it. Reclosing my eyes, I focus once again on the feeling of Marco, especially the light touch of his fingers resting on my waist. The mumbling from the microphone flees further and further from my consciousness as they continue on. I’m beginning to wish I was just back at my apartment with Marco instead of here. I’m so tired…and…

“Jean. Jean!” Marco’s suddenly calling in my ear. I frown and look up at him. He’s beaming at me and gesturing up towards the stage. That’s when I realize that _everyone else _is beaming at me as well.__

“What?” I ask, slightly frustrated from being ripped out of my half-conscious fantasyland where I had managed to tune out everything except the two of us.

“You’re the homecoming king!” He explains, his fingers gripping my side tighter in an effort to rouse me awake. I lift my head and blink a few times before fully processing what’s going on. Everything is a blur of smiling faces and ridiculously loud cheering that batter my senses as Marco begins to lead me gently through the parting crowd and up to the stage.

“I don’t even go here anymore. I wasn’t on the homecoming court.” I whisper in Marco’s ear once I gain my bearings. 

“He said you were a write-in.” Marco explains happily. Then he slides slightly behind me as he ushers me up the steps onto the stage. We make our way up slowly and I try not to wince at the creaking of my knees as I stare out at the proud/pity-filled expressions I’m receiving from pretty much everyone in the room. What the fuck is going on?

“Will you be okay?” I hear behind me. 

“Just don’t leave me up there by myself.” I retort. Then softer… “Please.” Marco squeezes my elbow in answer, assuring me that he’s not going anywhere. I know I need him there for balance, because the last thing I want is to fall over in front of the whole school. However, I also feel like if he leaves my side, the increasingly debilitating nervousness that’s encroaching in on me ever so steadily will win its battle over my attempted poise.

“Congratulations Jean.” Principal Ackerman says, sounding sincere for what may be the very first time. He makes to put the crown on my head but hesitates, probably because of my beanie. I just smile softly and take it from his hand, holding it tightly to my chest. There’s clapping again, and I squint through the brightness of the spotlight. Thank goodness I have Marco next to me, or there’s no doubt I’d go down under the heat of the concentrated light. We’re arm in arm now, much like we were the first day we met when he was accompanying me around at the hospital picnic.

God, that feels like years ago.

“Would you like to make a speech?” Mr. Ackerman asks. My first instinct is to decline because I don’t have a fucking speech prepared whatsoever. I didn’t even know I was in the running for this at all. Most likely I’ll just trip over my words and embarrass myself in front of everyone.

But then again, there’s something about Marco’s reassuring glow next to me, and the bated breath of everyone who is waiting for me to say something, anything inspirational. And that’s when I realize that a lot of people here care about me. Yeah, it’s probably just because I’m the kid with cancer, but they care nonetheless. I guess I kind of owe it to them to say something, and maybe get some things off my chest while I’m up here. I mean what the hell, I’m the homecoming king, I should say what I want.

“Sure, thanks.” I answer softly, receiving the microphone from Mr. Ackerman. Raising it slowly to my mouth, I take a deep, shaky breath and try to gather my thoughts. Marco shifts slightly closer to me, reminding me that he’s still there.

“Uh, I just want to say thanks for voting me the homecoming king. I technically don’t go here anymore, so it really nice of you to write me in anyway. It’s kind of funny because you know…there’s no way I’d win something like this if I didn’t get cancer.” Whoops, that came out wrong. I’m met with awkward silence, and I clutch the crown closer to my chest, feeling the cheap metal dig into my fingers.

“I just say that because I see what you guys are trying to do. You’re trying to help me make the best of a really shitty– I mean _bad _situation. And I appreciate it, I really do. But um, I’m actually okay with everything in my life right now, finally. I’m actually a lot better now than I ever was before I got sick, as weird as that sounds.” I pause because I sort of feel like I’m rambling. Marco’s hand migrated its way to mine at some point while I was talking and his thumb rubs back and forth along my palm, sending slight shivers up my arm. I swallow, looking out at the attentive faces of my fellow students in the audience. What’s the one thing that I’ve taken from all of this that I think they should know? I feel like I’m in a movie and this is the climax where the whole lesson is laid out for the viewers.__

“I guess I just want to let you guys know that life is never going to go exactly how you want it. Hell, it might not even last as long as you want it to. I think we all try to convince ourselves that if we just wait one more day, week, or year then the tide will turn, the clouds will part, the sun will shine, and everything will be great. But that’s just not…I don’t know. I mean, yeah we’re young, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from this whole experience, it’s that you need to take big risks in your life. And no matter how they end up, you’ll be glad you took them eventually.” Applause rips through the room, and I can even make out tears on the faces of quite a few people out on the gym floor. I didn’t think it was that good of a speech…but either way, pride blossoms in my chest. I glance at Marco, who’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He looks almost as if he’s in the middle of a daydream.

“So thank you. Thanks so much. But uh, I really honestly don’t need this. And I already have a hat on…” I trail off with a chuckle, earning quite a few laughs from everyone. “So I’d rather give it to the person who actually goes here and earned it fair and square, and not just by getting sick. So who was the runner-up?” I ask, turning to Principal Ackerman who takes the microphone back from me.

“Eren Jaeger.” He says, nodding to Eren who is standing off to the edge of the stage with the few other guys who were on the court. I hold back a snort, because of course it’s Eren. But I walk over to him anyway with Marco in tow and hold out the crown for him to take. He smirks at me expectantly and gestures up at his head.

“Oh my God.” I sigh, setting the crown on top of his head, resisting the urge to slam it into his skull. I’m kidding of course, because honestly I’m feeling on top of the world right now. Eren pulls me into a hug, and a chorus of ‘awes’ sounds throughout the cavernous room.

“Still mad at me?” He asks quietly as I grin into his shoulder and pat his back roughly.

“No, asshole.” I reply lightheartedly, laughing with him as we part and Marco begins to lead me back down off of the stage. Once we’re down on the floor again, they start saying something about the king and queen dance, so everyone parts for Eren and Mikasa to begin slow dancing in the middle of the crowd once they’ve also stepped down from the stage. Marco leads me over to a table where the two of us sit, because he knows that I’m tired and need to rest for a minute or two.

“Was that really corny?” I ask him when he sits down next to me, leaning back against the table. He frowns and shakes his head, a sincere expression furrowing his brow.

“Not at all. It was really nice…and uplifting.” He adds after a second. Then he turns his unfocused gaze out on Eren and Mikasa, who are swaying gracefully with each other to the slow beat of a ballad I’ve never heard before. They look so unmistakably in love, it almost hurts to look at them. Why can’t I– _we _have that?__

“Can I ask you something?” Marco pipes up, his voice low with deep thought. His dark brown eyes are still trained on the dance floor, reflecting the sparkles of all the twinkling lights all over the walls and ceiling. 

“Yeah.”

“What risks were you talking about, specifically?” He asks, still unable to look at me for some reason. I take a deep breath and sit up a little straighter, having a feeling I know what answer he’s looking for.

“Well for starters, I didn’t tell you to fuck off when I first met you. And I didn’t talk to anyone at that point, so that was actually a little hard for me.” I begin, getting him to grin a bit, his perfect teeth peaking from between his lips. “And then I texted you that next day after you gave me your number, which to be honest I was pretty terrified to do.” Marco looks down at the floor at that, smiling even wider to himself and sitting forward in his seat with his hands folded on his knees. I can’t stop staring at him. I’m on his right, so the good side of his face is visible to me. He’s so…dammit, I’m running out adjectives besides “perfect.”

“Then of course the big one was when I decided to trust you and go through with the chemo. You already know how difficult of a decision that was for me to make. But it worked out better than I ever thought it could have.” I pause before the next one, because it’s sort of taboo to speak of it. But fuck it, we basically pretty much have everything out in the open now. I might as well.

“And uh, when I tried to kiss you after the party. That was a huge risk, and it probably wasn’t the best one I’ve taken.” Marco’s eyes snap to mine in an instant, and he looks taken aback. His mouth is half-parted like he’s trying to figure out what to say. I chuckle and shake my head gently. “I know it’s kind of like an unspoken rule that we’re not supposed to talk about that, but it happened and we were both there.” I explain, earning a blush and nod from him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He answers quietly.

“Nah, that was all me. Don’t be sorry.” I laugh, waving off his apology. He leans back against the table again and lets out a long exhale before replying.

“So…all your big risks pretty much had to do with me?” Marco asks cautiously, his eyes seeming to search my face for something. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but if I knew I wouldn’t hesitate to give it to him.

“All of them,” I answer, glancing back out at the dance floor. Another slow song is starting now, and other couples are starting to drift out to where Eren and Mikasa are, slow dancing together as well. “And I was thinking of taking another one now, if you’re up for it.” I add, standing up slowly. My exhaustion from before has fled, and any pain in my body shifts to the back of my mind when I look down at Marco who is gazing up at me curiously, those twinkling lights still flashing back at me from his eyes.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask, nodding my head towards everyone else. As soon as the words leave my mouth, a smile bursts onto his lips. My heart is flutters lightly at his innocent excitement, and I hold out my hand for him. He takes it and stands, walking with me out onto the floor. Once we’ve found a good spot, we stop and I turn to him, a little more nervous than I thought I would be. Here he is, looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had, yet I’m just a clueless jerk who really just wants to feel him hold me again because he’s so warm and his arm are so nice and _I like him so much _. My mind is sputtering out of control when he gently slides his hands around my waist, linking his fingers together at the bottom of my back. I let out a little puff of nervous breath and lift my arms up clasp my hands together behind his neck.__

An unknown singer’s voice drones on around us, accompanied by light acoustic guitar and a gentle drum beat. We start to shift back and forth slowly, me still slightly conscious of where my feet are so I don’t make a fool out of myself with him. After a few moments, Marco pulls me closer to him, closing the few inches of gaping distance between our bodies. My stomach seizes at the sudden closeness, but I sigh softly into his shoulder and adjust so that my forearms are crossed behind his neck.

“Hey Jean,” Marco says softly, his breath feathering lightly over the skin of my neck. The way he says my name alerts me that he has something important to say. We continue to sway together at the same tempo, but my heart beats much faster. I wonder if he can feel it with our chests touching like this.

“Yeah?” I reply a bit too eagerly. He inhales deeply and I can feel the subtle inflation of his lungs against me. 

“I’m really glad that you’re happy. You were saying up there that you’re okay with your life now and everything…and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” He explains, one of his hands beginning to trail an absentminded path up and down my spine, like he’s done so many other times. I feel my heart swell with each word he says, until it feels near to bursting. Marco’s like my own personal guardian, always looking out for me and trying to make sure I get what I want out of my life.

What did I ever do to deserve him?

“Thank you.” I answer quietly, my voice almost down to whisper in order to keep myself from tearing up at just how sweet he is. Bending my face down slightly, I bury my nose in his shoulder, discretely inhaling his ashen, autumn, cherry scent. He responds by tilting his face into the crook of my neck. He doesn’t kiss me, but I’m hyperaware of the way his lips and cheek rest lightly against my skin. We continue like that for the rest of the song, clutching each other desperately and taking in each others’ fragrances, yet somehow still dancing around the fact that we both like each other.

I mean it’s so obvious by this point it aches.

Eventually the song ends and regular music resumes, along with regular dancing. Marco and I regroup with our friends and spend the rest of the evening dancing with them, whilst exchanging glances with each other whenever we get the chance. And yes, the Cha-Cha Slide does come on, and I fucking rock it. Well at least I think I do. My skill probably doesn’t match my enthusiasm, but Marco still laughs and claps for me nonetheless, having the time of his life watching me make a complete asshole out of myself. 

By the time the dance comes to a close, I’m surprisingly not that tired. I thought I’d be asleep on my feet by the end, but I think the thought of finally getting to go home with Marco is perking me up a bit. We’re saying goodbye to all of our friends out in the parking lot when Eren gives me a knowing smirk as he walks past with Mikasa under his arm.

“Have fun tonight.” Is all he says, and I blush furiously at that and Mikasa punches his viciously in the upper-arm. Thank goodness Marco is off bidding Reiner and Bertholdt farewell at their car. I grin at the fading sound of Mikasa’s scolding when Marco returns, arm extended for me to take.

“You ready to go?” He asks. I nod and we walk to his car together, chatting about the dance and our friends. Our conversation continues into the drive, and I relish in his musical laugh whenever I say something he thinks is funny. It’s like a pretty melody floating through the air, like someone humming as they walk past you on the street and then getting a catchy song stuck in your head for the rest of your day. I feel like I’m at that blissful point between buzzed and drunk, but I haven’t even had anything to drink. It’s just Marco being Marco.

It’s not until we arrive at my apartment that we fall into a sudden silence. The possibilities of the night hang between us like weighted pendulums, and I have no idea which one to choose. In a mini panic, my mind grasps for anything to buy me time until a decision has to be made.

“We should get inside so I can take a look at your eye.” I suggest. Marco chuckles and nods, seeming a little thankful for the distraction. We hurry to the steps because the temperature has dropped significantly with the night, but we take our time going up because he insists. I complain that he’s too careful, and he says it’s better to be safe than sorry. We tumble into the apartment in a fit of giggles, him trying with all his might to put on a serious face and scold me for leaving him behind halfway up the stairs, leaving him to chase after me with arms outstretched in case I fell. (Which I knew I wouldn’t. I feel fantastic right now.)

“Sit down. I’m gonna try to find the first aid kit.” I command, pointing to one of the kitchen table chairs. Marco obeys silently, closing the door behind him and turning on the lights before sinking into the nearest seat. I flee into the bathroom and rummage through the cabinet under the sink in hopes of finding the red box that I remember seeing years ago when my mom used to actually give a shit when I got hurt. I frown and reach all the way to the back, shoving old shampoo bottles and cleaning products out of my way, until finally I find what I’m looking for. Victorious, I reenter the living room with the kit in hand steal a glimpse of Marco in the kitchen, who has taken off his jacket now and has slung it over the back of his chair. He doesn’t notice me at first, and he’s staring at the floor, looking almost a little nervous. He’s wringing his fingers in his lap, but stops and smiles up at me when I reach back and flip off the bathroom light. 

Turning the chair next to his to face him, I sit down and open the box on the table. He looks at me with an amused look, as if I don’t know what I’m doing.

“What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles and shakes his cute head while I try to find the alcohol wipes in this disorganized piece of crap.

“I just got punched. It’s not that big a deal.” He says softly, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. I sigh and survey the left side of his face. All I really want to do is clean out that cut above his eye. Obviously there isn’t anything I can do at this point for the black eye or the bruised cheek.

“Shut up, and tilt your head towards the light.” I mutter softly, finally locating the wipes. I rip one open and lift it to where the cut is, crimson and angry. If I look hard enough, I can still make out the slightly red stain on his skin where blood must have trickled from it earlier before he haphazardly wiped it off. I’m more careful than I’ve ever been in my life, not sure if I’d ever forgive myself if I pressed too hard and hurt him. 

The whole time I clean the cut, Marco just stares at me. I keep unconsciously going back and forth between looking at the area right around his eye, and looking _into _his eyes. I wonder if he can tell the difference when I’m this close.__

“You know, it’s kind of nice taking care of you for once. It’s always the other way around.” I find myself murmuring as I follow the almost invisible trail of blood down along the side of his nose.

“I don’t mind taking care of you though.” Marco assures me fiercely. I chuckle at warmly at that, noticing that although I couldn’t see his freckles through his bruising earlier, I can see them now when I’m close enough and the light is right.

“I know you don’t, but it’s nice to get the chance to not mind taking care of you too.” I quote him. He starts to nod but stops, probably because he remembered that I’m in the midst of taking care of his eye. He opts to just stare at me instead, his gaze doing something to me that I’m not really expecting right at that moment. My heart starts to pump just a tad faster, and my adrenaline-filled veins start to heat up my whole body with a confidence I don’t normally possess.

“There, all clean. Want me to kiss it better?” I half joke and half seriously offer, pulling my hand away from his face with my default smirk plastered on as a defense mechanism. He laughs for a moment, but when he nods a yes I have to honestly put effort into keeping my cool and not looking surprised. 

All right, no problem. Just kiss right above his eye, no big deal. I try to ignore the fact that I currently have full permission to kiss Marco Bodt’s face as I start to lean forward. His eyes fall closed and my heart jumps because jeez almighty, it looks like we’re about to _actually kiss _. It takes all of my self-restraint to press my lips gently to the place right above his left eye. His eyelid twitches slightly against my lower lip, and I practically swoon over how soft his skin is, despite the damage done to it.__

Something inside me refuses to let me retract, to pull my lips off of him. So I linger, unsure of what to do, where to go. I know what I want, because I’ve wanted it for so fucking long it’s become a constant, throbbing ache in my core that rivals whatever everyday agonies leukemia has in store for me when I wake up each morning.

I hesitantly raise my hand up to cup Marco’s good cheek, and he lets out a small puff of breath in response. His hand settles on my knee, encouraging me. I end the in-between moment I’ve gotten us caught up in by slowly, ever so slowly, moving my lips slightly to the right and planting another gentle kiss next to the outside corner of his eye. The limbo ends and I swear he must be able to hear my veins pulsing in my head, because I sure can.

I continue my torturously slow trail of kisses down to his cheek, my stomach twisting tighter and tighter with each second. Because I know that each small peck brings me closer to…Oh God. I’m right next to his lips now. My heart is hammering out of control, bringing an almost lightheaded feeling into my skull. Both of us are breathing heavily now, our nerves getting the better of us. I hesitate, needing to take a few moments to work up the courage before I take that next step, because once we really kiss there won’t be any going back. We won’t be able to just go back to being friends and pretend it didn’t happen like the incident after the party. No, once we go down that road, we’re staying on it. So that’s why I hesitate next to the corner of his mouth, my lips almost trembling against his freckled skin. But Marco…well he apparently isn’t having any of that.

Before I have a chance to react, his hands are upon my cheeks and he turns his head so that our lips brush lightly. I exhale slightly, thankful for the choice being made for me. Marco’s always been the sure one, always been the decision maker. I’ve never been good at thinking. So I don’t…

I just kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say that when I first started this fic, my chapters averaged around 5k words. Well guess what, BAM! 14,262 words this time around! YOU ARE ALL WELCOME, now I'm going to go die and try to catch up on all the classes I probably failed while writing this <3
> 
> Oh and by the way guys I made a tumblr lol, for all those who were saying I should make one and I was all like "...What are computers?" Anyway, I figured it out (I hope). So it's physiologyfan.tumblr.com and if you have any fan art or you post anything having to do with the fic, please tag it under fic: malignancy. And please go there if you have questions for me and stuff because it'd make me very happy. Thanks so much and let me know if the tumblr is crappy because I have no idea what I'm doing!!!!


	14. Somewhere I Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss leads to other things, Marco thinks too much, and Jean is a dumbass as usual. But that's nothing new.

MARCO’S POV:

I think one of the most ubiquitous feelings that we as human beings have is loneliness. God knows I’ve felt it. For seventeen– almost eighteen years I’ve been up to my neck in it, craning my head just to keep my nostrils above its viscous surface in order to just _breathe _. I’m unable to pinpoint exactly when the torrent started to ebb and when its aggressive battering of my spirit started to finally subside. All I know is that when I dragged myself from its depths, shivering and soaked to the bone, it was Jean who caught me when my strength gave in. He pulled me out, whispering words of encouragement along the way, nursing me back to health after years of having a malnourished soul.__

It’s strange to think about it that way because I’m sure from his point of view he sees it as a one-way street. Jean probably thinks that he just needs me, and that I would have been perfectly fine had I not met him. But every time I avoided confrontation or hid behind a veil of politeness and pleasantries before he became such a vital part of my existence, another part of me got locked away deep inside. And for the life of me I thought I’d never get those precious pieces of me back.

Jean Kirstein. That name sounds like a prayer to me these days, wrapping me up in a swathe that protects me from the weight of world when it crashes down on me every damn day. I still don’t know how I derive so much strength from his weakness, but maybe seeing how much I’ve changed his life is what gave me the incentive to change mine as well. 

Yeah, I’m starting to become a lot more comfortable with change. That’s why when just a second ago when Jean was paused right next to my lips –frozen in I don’t know what…Fear? Uncertainty?¬– I took matters into my own hands, literally. I grasped his face as softly as I could manage in my moment of sudden desperation, lining up our mouths perfectly. He went rigid for just a fraction of a second, most likely surprised by my sudden movement, but then he leaned into it and kissed me back.

We kissed, and thus began our long, gentle exploration of one another. Our mouths move together unhurriedly and magically, and for a few very drawn-out moments my senses are so filled with Jean that I’m almost beside myself. His aroma is sweet in my nose as I suck in haphazard breaths. He never really had a specific scent when he was in the hospital because of his overly aseptic surroundings, but since he’s been home I’ve noticed that he sparks a distant thought of a masculine sort of vanilla and citrus, like an old forgotten memory. I’ll admit I found it quite addicting when we were slow dancing earlier at the dance, and it’s even harder to resist now when paired with the nectar-like taste of his tongue when it tentatively, finally works its way between my parting lips.

The way his icy fingers trail their way down my jawline and curl around the side of my neck does things to me – things I don’t really know how to deal with. Soon I find myself rushing what I thought I wanted to be a tender moment between us. But I can’t help it when this scalding fervor is beginning to fill up my lungs, practically forcing me to lean closer, hold him tighter, and kiss him harder. Because I _need _to feel more of him. And I don’t know when I started wanting him this badly, but it’s abundantly clear right now when I barely even have control of my hands and mouth, pulling him infinitely closer to me.__

His hands have made their way into my hair now, leaving a pleasant sensation every time his fingers rustle through the strands. It isn’t until he gives me a minor, yet glorious feeling tug that I start to think about the way I’m affecting him as well. I suddenly become extremely aware of how heavy his breathing is, and the way he’s clinging to me as well. My heart triples in speed at the realization, frantically trying to supply enough blood to the extremities of my body that I seem to so easily be losing track of.

That’s when he bites my lip, teeth closing on the already tender, swelling tissue and pulling just hard enough to rip a gasp out from my throat. And I can’t…I can’t take it. It’s too much. Releasing Jean’s face, I part from his lips and slide my hands down to his shoulders, then his sides, and his hips, and before I know it I’ve got a firm grip on his backside and I’m lifting his fragile frame up from his chair and into my lap. He immediately drapes his arms over my shoulders, balancing delicately on me. 

It’s only then that I let my eyes flutter open and take in the scenic view of him staring at me, eyes half-lidded yet bright and wild looking at the same time. And I’ll be damned if that intense look that he’s always seemed to save just for me hasn’t increased tenfold somehow. A noticeable flush has covered his cheeks in the still bright light of the kitchen, and his mouth is hanging slightly open in what looks like wonderment but has a tinge of eroticism lurking somewhere in his expression. He looks so, for lack of a better word, _hot _.__

Actually, “hot” is probably the best word to describe him right now.

When I reach up and stroke my hand over the back of his head, tracing the fibers and folds of his beanie, a small little smile graces his perfect lips. I almost feel like I should say something, like this is the moment that we should confess all the unspoken words and emotions between us. However, I have a feeling he already understands what I want him to know. What would I say, that I like him more than a friend? That’s abundantly clear by this point on both ends. No point ruining our moment with wasted words, not when I’ve waited so long for it to happen without even really realizing I definitely wanted this until…until today I guess.

Besides, even if I were to say something, any and all thoughts are wiped clean from my mind when he leans down slightly and plants a kiss on the front of my throat. Breath catching, I instinctively lean my head back in order to give him better access and encourage him. He begins trailing small pecks up the right side of my neck towards increasingly sensitive skin. Each touch sends little shots of electricity down my vertebrae, nearly tempting me to arch my spine against the back of the chair just a bit. But I have just enough remaining control over my body to make it look like I’m not actually losing my mind a little on the inside.

Well, that is until he bites me again. This time it’s on a patch of skin right below my ear that I never really thought or cared about before, but suddenly have a renewed appreciation for after the action. Despite myself, I let out small, gasping moan in response. My face sets aflame at that, but I can also feel Jean smile against me as he purrs a raspy little hum of approval. And _God in heaven, it’s so sexy _.__

Then just when I think things couldn’t get any heavier, Jean manages to find the one act that begins to absolutely tear me to shreds. (In a good way. The best way imaginable.) Slowly, torturously slowly, he starts to grind down against my lap. The friction practically kills me because I want so much more of it, endlessly more. There’s an alarm going off in the far recesses of my head somewhere that says we may be moving a bit fast, but the layers and layers of sensations that Jean is evoking in my body cover it up before I ever really take any notice.

A hot tension begins to flood my lower abdomen, an old familiar friend from more than enough midnight fantasies and muffled, panting searches for release while alone in my room at home, looking to maybe feel something real for once. However, this is on a whole different level. My body is scalding – molten. I’m surprised I don’t burn him when I sneak my fingers just under the collar of his dress shirt just so I can feel a tiny bit of his skin in my sensually fueled haze.

I can’t help but pitch upwards, chasing after more of that friction…It feels otherworldly. By now Jean is no longer kissing or biting me, but just panting into the crook of my neck, his steaming puffs of breath somehow sending chill after chill down my body. We’re both completely preoccupied with the goal of achieving as much contact as possible between our respective, most sensitive organs. If I wasn’t so undeniably turned on, I’d be mortified about how noticeable my hard-on is at this point. Maybe what’s keeping me so calm is how noticeable _his _is as well.__

“Marco,” Jean finally breaks the thick, heaving silence with my name on his lips in what can only be described as a whine, which just sends even more blood down to my groin. “D-do you…want to go to the couch?” He breathes almost soundlessly as his movements slow to a stop. If his mouth wasn’t right next to my ear, I’m not sure I would have heard him. 

“Yeah.” I practically wheeze in what may be the most unpolished way I think I’ve ever sounded. Jean sluggishly gets off of my lap, standing up in front of me and eyeing me with an unreadable look as I follow suit. He flips off the kitchen light, plunging us into darkness for a split second. Once I blink a few times and my eyes adjust to the dim street lighting leaking in through the living room window, I feel his hand in mine, leading me into the other room and towards the couch.

My legs feel like they’re lagging and my fingertips feel numb when they brush against his palm, but I follow him through the dark anyway. And when we reach the couch, I decide to plant a long, sweet kiss on his pillow-soft lips as I lower him down onto his back. Then I’m on top of him, making sure not to let my weight rest on his all-too-breakable body. His hands grip the back of my dress shirt firmly as our once gentle kiss turns heated again. There’s so much noise in my head, bouncing around against the inside of my skull as we grow more and more frenzied. It’s the blood roaring in my ears, pulsing violently as my body races to keep up with the heat of the moment, I know that. But I can’t help but hear music in the messy commotion between my temples. It’s beautiful and turbulent, much like Jean himself. And it’s heightening in a violent crescendo as I lose myself in the feeling of his lips and his body.

Eventually, as blissful as it feels, I can’t hold off any longer. I need more of him still. So I drift over to his jawline and place small kisses along it, relishing in the long, shaky exhale Jean releases as a result. Continuing, I reach down and make quick work of undoing the buttons on his vest. Then slower, I release the buttons on his dress shirt, making my way down. When I have all of it open I tug at the bottom to un-tuck it from his dress pants. Then I sit up, straddling him carefully and glancing hungrily at the sliver of his chest now showing in the gap between the edges of his shirt.

It’s not until I start to push aside the fabric, exposing more of his skin, that I notice the look on his face…I pause. His head is turned to the side, eyes cast slightly down, and a debilitating expression of shame furrows his brow. It's the same look I remember making the day he saw my bruises the first time.

In that moment all the heat built up in my body ices over as I realize he’s embarrassed, maybe even disgusted with himself, much like I was. As we remain there, frozen in that all-too-vulnerable moment, I try to find the words. What could I possibly say to convince him that I know I’ll find him just as flawless as I always have? How do I tell him that I have shame too, so much that sometimes I feel like it’s going to swallow me up? But that I know now that it’s okay to feel that way because he showed me how much he cared that day in the tender way he touched me, just a hint of tears in his eyes, and a storm brewing behind those waves. I just want him to realize how perfect he is, because my heart almost can’t take the way he’s avoiding my gaze right now, pain etched in every line on his face.

“Jean,” I whisper, finding it hard to speak at a normal volume in a room so silent, dimly lit, and heavy with tension. He doesn’t react or make a move to look at me whatsoever. I wish I could figure out how to voice all the things I want to say, but my mind just isn’t working the way I want it to. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” I murmur, leaning down and brushing my lips against his porcelain cheek. He lets out a shuddering sigh but nothing more. Jean’s always been good at putting up walls. That’s just what he does, hides within himself when things get too much. So I sit back up, hoping giving him a bit of time will help.

“Here, how about I go first?” I offer, finally getting him to look up at me tentatively. His face is so full of uncertainty, but he still nods. So I quickly remove my tie, dropping it somewhere on the floor next to the couch. Then I un-tuck and unbutton my shirt, Jean eyeing me all the while. I fight the panicky instinct that fills my head for a moment when I take it off, reminding myself that Jean won’t judge me no matter how many new scars or bruises may reside under the fabric. The only way to get him to trust me is to trust him first.

His expression is unreadable when his hands intuitively reach up and slide their way over my hips and up my waist. My eyes flutter closed at his feather-light touch sending chills rippling across my skin. Inhaling as calmly as I can, I let him examine me, touching wherever he pleases. I don’t even flinch when he sweeps over the tender area where my dad hit me earlier today. His fingertips are still cold from the frigid air in the apartment, and as they travel farther up my chest I have to resist the urge to touch him back. Instead I force my arms to hang at my sides, giving him the stillness and space he needs to acclimate.

I’m adrift in the feeling of his hands when he suddenly shifts so that he’s sitting up, subsequently landing me in his lap. Then he’s kissing my chest, bringing a fresh wave of sensations through my body. Still I fight the desire to touch him, letting him continue without being bothered. But then his lips find their way to my left nipple, sending tiny electrical impulses down my spine and straight to…you know where. Noticing the strength flee my body at the new, strange, amazing feeling, I lean my forehead down against the top of his head. Skin against cotton fabric, I exhale heavily as he works the small patch of sensitive flesh with his mouth.

When his teeth close gently on me, I can’t stop the small, strangled moan that escapes me as my hands fly up involuntarily to grip his shoulders. It’s hard not to grind against him again at the feeling. Jean’s quite the biter, not that I wouldn’t expect it from someone with a personality like his. He’s always been gutsy, and maybe a little bit harsh. He’s the kind of person that keeps me on my toes, and right now is no exception obviously.

I’m vaguely aware of him removing the rest of his shirt and vest, which had fallen down around his elbows. My heart thumps harder in my ribcage when I hear them fall to the floor next to the couch. Then finally, _finally _, Jean lies back down and allows me to look at him, only a trace of the shame he exhibited earlier left on his face. I’m deliberate and calculated when I look over him, kind of able understand what he was afraid of revealing to me.__

His body is what I’d expect of someone going through rigorous cancer treatment; gaunt, fragile, and completely worn down looking. The way his ribs try so hard to make themselves known through his borderline translucent skin, raking lines over his edges of his chest in the darkness, makes him look all too breakable. He looks remarkably _worse _than I expected, I can’t deny that. By God, without clothes covering him I feel like if I touch him my fingertips will tear right through his paper-thin skin and get caught up in all the medication that’s probably still lingering in his arteries from his last treatment.__

How exhausted is he really, from holding on through all of this? He’s been hiding it so well…I don’t want to hurt him.

But I touch him anyway, my hands smoothing over his chest because despite how alarmingly sick he looks, there’s something about this moment that just clicks something inside me. Back on my first day volunteering at the hospital, training for the picnic, we had a seminar about what to expect with the patients and how to prepare mentally. At one point, a very experienced nurse got up front and told us a few solemn sentences that stuck in my head like fresh, cooling tar. I remember her exhausted, overworked expression like it was yesterday. She looked as if she practically lived in that hospital, dedicating her entire life to those patients.

“People come in here expecting to just hug cute, little, bald children and give out candy and such, and then go home feeling good at the end of the day. But folks, that’s not why you’re here. This isn’t about you feeling good. This is about helping those who can no longer help themselves. The faces of the sick aren’t pretty ones. These people are dying. There’s no grace in that. It’s an ugly process and everyone here needs to accept that before attempting to help even a single patient here at St. Rose.”

I can now only agree with half of what she said as I look upon Jean currently. He’s not graceful, that much is true. There’s something extremely inelegant about his body’s deterioration, that even I with my recently unquenchable feelings for him can’t argue against. However, there’s nothing _ugly _about him. In fact, the way his battle for life leaves such obvious evidence is almost heroic in a sense. Beautiful, just like he looked on my first night here when I secretly exposed his bald head after he fell asleep. Much like his temperament, his body’s edges have been roughened by endless struggle. But that’s always been part of his charm, hasn’t it?__

I thought this whole time I’ve been gaining strength from his weakness, but in reality I think he may actually be much stronger than me, and anyone else for that matter. He’s just so deep in his tunnel of self-loathing that he can’t see the light at the end anymore. Or maybe he can, and he’s just running in the other direction because he thinks it’s just a train coming. 

He’s staring up at me with curious, slightly fearful eyes as I explore his body gently, much like he did with me. I’m careful to lighten the graze of my fingertips as I gloss over the raised bump where his port lies just under the skin a few inches below his left shoulder, where I still can’t help but look away every time they puncture him there at the hospital, because seeing the IV needle itself go in would make it much too real for me.

He’s looking at me like he wants to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. It’s almost comical when I think about it, how seriously we’re taking this. We’re just two teenage boys, shirtless together on the living room couch. Yet we’re so hormone driven – I can barely even think through the desire-induced fog that reenters my mind as I lean down over Jean and press a lingering kiss to his collar bone. But I’m coherent enough to be able to see what he’s trying to voice through the torn, close-mouthed look he’s giving me. He needs me to tell him what I’m thinking, what I’m really thinking.

“Jean…” I breathe against the skin stretched frailly over his clavicle. His chest rises beneath me, taking in a deep breath before humming lightly in response with his mouth buried in the top of my hair. At least he responds this time.

“Hmm?”  
“You’re beautiful.” I say clearly and resolutely, continuing my gentle kisses down to his sternum. With my lips against him and my one hand curled around his waist, I can feel the way his respiring picks up at that. I’m almost down to his navel by the time he responds.

“Yeah?” Is all he says, his voice quiet and pensive above my head as I reach his belly button.

“Mm-hm.” I hum, long and drawn out as I press my lips into the little depression in his abdomen. He shudders slightly but doesn’t move to push me away.

“That tickled, asshole.” He says with a weighted chuckle, his voice practically – and very suddenly – drenched in want. I immediately sense the shift in his mood and accommodate happily, tilting my head to look up at him with a wolfish grin. He’s trying valiantly to smirk at me like usual, I know it, but right now he just looks so turned on it’s enough to make my head spin.

I may not have the most sexual experience in the world, and make that none when it comes to guys, but I do know that I want to see more of that expression on Jean’s pretty face. So here goes nothing.

“Oh, sorry.” I cunningly apologize as I normally would, polite with a slightly bashful smile. Then before Jean can respond and wave off my apology like he probably is about to, I duck my head down and press my mouth back to his belly button, allowing my tongue to dart out and dip into the dimpled skin. As I sweep wetly over his flesh I can feel goose bumps rise on his body.

“ _Ahh _…” Jean releases a low, breathy moan in response. I go weak for a second.__

I swear his little reactions are going to be the death of me. 

Tracing a moist, imaginary trail along his skin, I gradually make my way down to the front of his pants. His breaths are quick and frantic now, probably from anticipation. I’m kneeling between his legs, and my hands settle shakily on his belt buckle. Just in case, I make sure to catch Jean’s gaze before continuing, earning a small nod of permission from him. Well…I guess that’s that then. A violent blush heats up my face as I fumble nervously with his buckle, and then the button and zipper of his gray dress pants. My hands are shaking as he lifts his hips slightly, enough for me to tug his pants halfway down his thighs.

My heart is about ready to race its way right out of my ribcage when I glance up at Jean’s face, seeing that he’s just as anxious as I am, if not more. There’s only the thin layer of his boxers between me and his… _Ugh _, I’m so nervous! But I continue anyway, slipping my fingers under the elastic waistband and pulling them tremblingly down and over the sizable and increasingly enticing bulge they’re covering. And then he’s completely uncovered.__

Jean stops breathing.

I think I stop breathing too…

In fact, I think time actually stops for a few moments. But I restart it by craning my neck forward and pressing a tentative kiss to the soft-skinned, already slightly wet tip of what surprisingly may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Jean lets his breath out in an explosive puff, air stream hitching on the inhale as I let my tongue flick experimentally over all sides of the silky head. Glancing up at him, I gain a foreign sort of satisfaction at the way his hands are already gripping the edges of the couch cushion, and how he’s beginning to bite his lower lip.

When he raises his head up off of the pillow to watch me, consequently meeting my eyes again, my stomach probably does the fiftieth somersault of the night. Still, I lick my lips and then daringly slide the top of his erection into my mouth, well aware of his eyes regarding my every move. 

I’ve never done this before. I mean, it’s been done to me once or twice in the past, but being on the other end of it is…Different. Terrifying. _Exhilarating _.__

Quickly, I begin to lose myself in the task of trying to do the things for Jean that I know would make me feel good if I were in his position. Every little quiver of his body and every tiny sound he makes is more satisfying that I could have ever imagined. And the confidence I find myself having as I take him deeper into my mouth is unprecedented, but not unwelcome. My left hand is still fitted around the curve of his slender waist, while my right finds its way to the base of his shaft, gripping firmly and following the movements of my lips.

The sound Jean makes in response tastes almost as good as the hard, swollen flesh I’ve already got my mouth wrapped around. I tighten my lips on him, glancing up at his perfectly bewildered face as he shuts his eyes tightly and drops his head weakly back onto the pillow.

“M-Marco…” He leaks my name out between gritted teeth. That alone makes my pants seem all that much tighter. It makes me want to unravel him even more, and I’ve already fallen in love with the look that pops onto his face when I do something that feels especially good for him. One of his hands finds its way to my hair, fingertips dipping down to the back of my neck. My gut twists pleasantly at that, and I make sure to take just a bit more of him into my mouth.

“Fuck,” Jean responds with a little pull to my hair. “Don’t stop.” He adds breathlessly. I’d grin at that if I could, the needy way in which he speaks. When I glance up at him, his brow is furrowed and his mouth is hanging open as he practically gasps for air. I can feel myself stir involuntarily again in my stupidly tight dress pants because my God, Jean is so _sexy _. He must not have any idea just how erotic sounding his moans are, or just how much he turns me on. His usually cool skin is just as fiery as mine now and his hips start to squirm underneath my hold as he unconsciously tries to find his way even deeper into my mouth. A small whimper escapes his mouth as I accommodate his motions.__

Jean’s losing control and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hands are roaming all over my head, neck, shoulders, and upper arms because he can’t quite decide what kind of grip he wants on me. I absolutely love it, the feeling of his nails dragging over my skin. In fact I love all of this. I love the wet noises coming from my mouth, my own saliva dripping down my hand as I try to keep up with his now bucking hips. I love hearing the carnal groans and gasps Jean can’t stop himself from making. I love the salty taste of his precum on the back of my tongue, something I’m experiencing for the very first time.

My senses are being overloaded with so much _Jean _that I can barely take it. But it’s so infuriatingly perfect being stranded on this precipice, where I just want so badly to reach my own release, since I swear his reactions have already brought me halfway there. However, I can’t bear to abandon my focus on his pleasure, and all the feelings I know I’m bringing him. It’s almost funny to think that I, usually such a calm and stable guy, have been reduced to just a mass of hormones whose only foreseeable goal is to make Jean come as hard as he can.__

“That feels so…ahh, _shit _…” His words fall off into a string of almost unintelligible curses when I daringly remove my hand from his erection and take the whole thing slowly into my mouth, nose pressing up against the smooth skin of his groin. It’s a lot, I can’t lie. I go slowly at first, adjusting to the feeling of opening up my throat to take all of him. The increasingly loud whines he releases every time my head bobs back down is enough to bring out an involuntary moan of my own.__

Jean’s hips are becoming wild now, thrusting at me quicker than before and gradually losing rhythm. He’s getting close I think. His hands are locked onto my shoulders like vices, fingers digging wonderfully into my skin.

“Marc-Marco…I’m gonna…” He grunts as if on cue. I return my hand and start pumping along with my mouth again, as hard and as fast as I can manage. I want to get him there so badly it aches. “Oh God!” Jean cries out in response, his voice’s edges frayed as he nears his climax.

Come for me Jean. I’ve never wanted anything so much.

“F-fuck!” Jean practically sobs as finally, with a twitch that resonates throughout his whole body, he orgasms roughly and shamelessly. One of his hands finds its way back into my hair, almost ripping as I continue sucking and bringing him through it. I can’t help but appreciate the sounds coming out of his mouth…I’ve wrecked him in the most amazing way.

Only when the last stream of bitter tasting semen has been expelled and his thrusts stop do I slowly and carefully pull my mouth off of him and sit up. It feels so obscene, the way I meet his bewildered eyes while I swallow my mouthful of his cum. We stare at each other for at least half a minute. Then suddenly, and a little too late, he opens his mouth to object, but then just falls into a fit of blushing and stuttering. Jean is so cute.

“You…” He trails off and just chuckles, covering his face for a few moments with both of his hands. With my dry hand, I pull away the fingers hiding his flawless face.

“ _You _.” I respond with a gentle laugh, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his jawline. Then I rest my forehead on the pillow, my mouth lining up near his ear. “You’re so hot.” I breathe, still feeling the strain of my own remaining hard-on.__

“You’re the hot one.” Jean answers languidly. And in that moment I can hear the exhaustion in his voice as it hits him. Of course he’s tired. Usually just daily living activities tucker him out, and here I am giving him a blowjob. Any normal guy would be tired after coming his brains out, but it must be tenfold for Jean.

It’s a little disappointing of course, because I know that this is where it ends for the night. However, the hormones still raging through my bloodstream have other plans. In other words, this boner isn’t going away on it’s own.

“Can uh…can I use your shower real quick?” I ask, lifting my head and giving Jean a desperate look that I hope communicates my need to him. I don’t want to have to say it. It’s too embarrassing. 

“…Sure.” He answers, frowning in a way that tells me he probably knows my ulterior motive. I honestly just need to go and jerk off, and doing it in front of him would be far too humiliating. I thank him and then ease myself off of the couch, pausing for a moment too look down at his naked body as he just lies there, staring up at me.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says after a bit, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest. His tone is light, but I can feel the weight behind his words. So I postpone my swift escape to the bathroom for a brief minute to bend over the couch, grasping the back of it with a hand for support.

“But I love looking at you.” I argue gently, pressing a kiss right next to Jean’s mouth, much like he did earlier before I actually kissed him for the first time. This time it’s him who turns his head in order to capture my lips with his own, drawing me quickly into the taste of him. He kisses me messily and tiredly, but for some reason that gets me even more heated up. When he gives me a small, gentle bite on my lower lip, I know I’ve got to go before I freaking come in my pants. I break the kiss with a huff and stand back up.

“I have t-…I’m gonna go shower now. I’ll only be a few minutes.” I practically squeak, fleeing into the bathroom before Jean can distract me any longer. The instant I close the door behind me and flip on the light, my pants and boxers are off in a flurry of hasty movement and I turn on the water as hot as it will go. I already have my erection in hand while I wait for the stream to heat up. Come on, come on, come on. I purposely make sure I avoid looking in the mirror. I don’t want to know how much worse my face has gotten since I left my house earlier today. That feels like years ago. All I’ve been able to focus on is Jean tonight, which has almost made me forget about what happened before the dance with my dad. I like it this way though, with just Jean on my mind.

A chill ripples through my body when I think of the events that just took place. Jean’s face flashes on the back of my eyelids when I shut my eyes, imagining his expressions paired with his moans. Sighing deeply, I jump into the shower, which has just barely gotten hot enough at this point. I smile to myself when I see the shower handlebar attached to the wall that I insisted Jean get on his first day back from the hospital. I’m glad he actually installed it. But in a flash my brain goes back to the task at hand and I let the quickly heating water pour over my head, drowning out all clear thought and leaving just the idea of Jean in my head as I move my hand quickly, trying to get the job done as quickly as possible.

I think of his scent and how it enveloped me when I pulled him onto my lap in the kitchen. The way he kissed my neck was heavenly, and when he kissed my chest on the couch it was even more perfect. A small moan wants to escape my lips when I think about the way his hips bucked against my mouth, but I hold it in. Instead I focus on the feeling of my hand, pretending even if just for a moment that it’s actually Jean touching me. However, when my fantasy gets a little too real and I get wrapped up in my own head, I end up letting out a little whine anyway. But it’s fairly quiet so I don’t think he could have heard me from outside the bathroom, not with the shower running at least.

But then I hear a timid voice through the roar of the water over my ears, right from the other side of the curtain…

“Marco, can I come in?”

I freeze, half from being so startled that my heart nearly pops out of my chest, and half from knowing I’ve been caught. He must have come in so quietly that I didn’t hear the door open over the sound of the water washing over my head. I whip to my right and see his slender shadow standing tentatively outside the shower, unmoving. Breathing in deeply, I brush my soaked bangs up off of my forehead.

“Yeah.” I whisper, suddenly finding myself entirely too self-conscious in the bright light of the bathroom, only slightly dampened by the shower curtain. And now _I’m _naked too and can suddenly understand Jean’s reluctance to let me look at him before. It’s terrifying. I resist the urge to turn around or cover myself somehow as he pulls the curtain aside and steps in slowly, eyeing my face cautiously. I hope somehow my expression doesn’t betray my fear, but I’m sure it does. Jean’s told me before that I’m an open book.__

However, I have a feeling it’s not that different from the look he’s giving me now. His hat is off, which I know is a big source of embarrassment for him, but he seems to be trying his best to ignore it. I visibly see his cheeks turn a few shades redder when his eyes quickly flit down to look at the rest of my body. He doesn’t linger though. Instead he steps forward through the water stream and presses a sweet, far too innocent kiss to my lips, given our position.

“I thought you were tired.” I admit softly with a bashful chuckle after we part. Jean runs his fingers along my right bicep. He’s shaking…

“Only a little.” He answers quietly. I take a good look at him, the way he peers at me through the rivers of water streaming down his face.

“Are you all right?” I ask, steadying him with a gentle grip on his shoulder. He sighs lightly, avoiding my gaze.

“Just nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.” I breathe, not sure if I’m reassuring him or myself. Kissing his cheek, I feel him smile slightly beneath my lips. It’s almost funny how much more clarity he has now compared to me, who is still very much caught in a lust-fueled haze.

“Okay.” Jean exhales. Then he presses his lips to my collarbone. My eyes fall closed as the already-present fire in my core starts burning even hotter. Soon he’s kissing his way up my neck and I begin to lose touch. I don’t even realize he’s been pushing against me, backing me up, until my shoulder blades touch against the cool tile of the back wall of the shower. 

He’s hesitant but brave in the way he touches me, in the way his hands slide down until they hold my hips delicately. Biting my lip, I practically hold my breath as he takes his time slipping his wet fingertips along my groin. Finally, his fingers wrap around my erection and I release a small, involuntary sigh.

When he begins sliding along my length, I thank God that he pushed me up against the wall of the shower, because I swear I lose the ability to support my own weight as the sensation spreads over my body. I know I’m acting like a kid, and that this isn’t my first hand-job. He shouldn’t be able to just scramble my brain like this so easily. But he has me scrambled regardless, with how his slender fingers create a special kind of friction along my skin, and how his kisses have become fierce once again. All I have the mental capacity to do is hold on to him, my nails pricking only slightly at the skin over his shoulder blades.

It doesn’t take long, the fire in my core having already been burning brightly before he even joined me. Soon he has me panting into the crook of his neck, trying my best to hold back what I know would be the most pornographic sounding of moans. It’s so hot, with my own body practically being a ball of fire, the hot water raining down on us, and Jean himself pressed up against me. I feel as though I’m about to melt into him, and it’s amazing. 

His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I say nothing as the tension inside me coils up more and more until finally…it snaps. The overwhelming feeling of my orgasm rips through my body, forcing a few desperate gasps out of me. I grit my teeth, burying my face in Jean’s chest as the movement of his hand slows until we’re both still and silent, except for my ragged breathing and the shower water pouring loudly over us. 

When I finally gather both the strength and courage to lift my head and look at Jean, he’s blushing but wearing a small, prideful grin. He presses a final kiss to my lips and then takes a few steps back, letting the water rush over my body. I just stare at him in bewilderment, my brain a bit slow moving from what just happened.

“Do you want to get out?” He asks, gesturing out of the shower. I nod and he shuts off the water and then pulls the curtain aside. After we both dry off, I shakily follow him back out to the living room, where the freezing air hits my skin like a train.

“Holy shit!” Jean exclaims, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around himself while he traipses over to the corner of the room where a folded pile of clothes sits. After a moment, he throws me a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, which I immediately put on faster than humanly possible. After he gets dressed as well, including his hat, he lies on the couch and motions for me to join him. I silently lie down in front of him, slightly surprised by the foreign feeling of his arms wrapping around me from behind. I’ve never been held like this before.

“What time is it?” He asks, his mouth close to my ear. I reach down for my phone, which ended up on the floor next to the couch somehow. After being temporarily blinded by my screen I see that I have six missed calls, all from my mom and dad. My stomach twists with an unpleasant, different kind of tension from earlier.

“2:37.” I say, swiping the notification off of my screen before Jean has a chance to see it.

“Damn, we should get to sleep. I have therapy tomorrow…or today I guess, since it’s past midnight.” He says with a complaining groan. I nod and place my phone facedown on the floor, nestling into Jean’s light grip on me.

“Are you comfortable?” I ask, hoping I’m not crushing his arm or something.

“Yep, you?” Jean asks. I nod silently and he sighs into the back of my shoulder warmly. “Okay,” he answers happily. “Good night.”

“Good night.” I whisper in response, closing my eyes and trying to shut out the rest of the world outside of this room. If only Jean didn’t have cancer and I had a real family…Things would be so much simpler for us.

* * *

 

When I wake up the next morning, I’m beyond comfortable. Jean is slung over me, fast asleep, and he’s warm. I’m cozy under his blankets and in his sweatpants and hoodie, even if they’re a little small on me. In our cocoon of heat, nothing is wrong. So I stay there and remain motionless so I don’t wake him.

I spend awhile thinking. I think about last night and how amazing it was. Homecoming was a blast, and when we came back here it was perfect. Yesterday I was braver than I’ve ever been…but when I start to feel the sharp throbbing of my right eye and cheek push its way through my morning grogginess, I wonder if I was maybe a bit too brave.

I don’t even want to see how many missed calls I have now. My parents…they hate me. They’ve probably been calling just to tell me off or ask me to come get the rest of my stuff out. I wouldn’t put it past them. I think about the way my mom just ran into her room crying because of how disappointed she was in me. And the look on my father’s face before he left…He’d never looked like that before yesterday.

For the first time, I start thinking that perhaps I made a mistake. I’m terrified of what my future holds now that I don’t have a family. No, we were never a good family, but they are my parents. What future will I have without them? Also, I told Jean I’m _gay _yesterday. Was that even the truth? Yeah I like him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I only like guys now just because I feel like this about Jean. What if I got way too carried away? I mean, last night was the first time we even kissed, and then all that other stuff happened on the same night. We may have taken things too quickly.__

I lie there panicking internally until Jean starts to stir behind me. He yawns and kisses the edge of my ear gently.

“You awake?” He whispers quietly enough not to wake me up if I’m still sleeping.

“Mm-hm.” I answer, staring at the blank walls of his living room thoughtfully. Should I tell him what I’m thinking, or should I just keep it to myself?

“Did you sleep well?” Jean asks, nuzzling his face against the back of my neck. I answer with another simple ‘mm-hm.’ He’s still for a few moments before pushing himself off of me and sitting up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. I sit up as well and when I finally look at him he’s frowning worriedly at me. I swallow, my throat feeling thick with nerves. I should tell him. He probably won’t understand at first, but if Jean is anything he’s understanding. He’s the only person that ever even listens to me really.

“Do you think that maybe we…” I pause and take a deep breath, folding my hands together on my lap. “T-that we moved too fast last night?” I ask, peering at him through fearful eyes. He raises his brows in surprise, staring at me in silence for what feels like forever. I cast my gaze to the floor, unable to take him looking at me like that. When he answers, I flinch.

“No, I don’t.” Jean answers, his voice sounding heavy. “But I guess you do?” He sounds pissed off now. When I look back up at him he’s scowling at me.

“I don’t know. I just…I’m not even sure if I’m gay yet and we did a lot last night and–” He cuts me off with a hand held up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What?” Jean interrupts, his eyes wide. “You fucking told me you’re gay yesterday. And _you_ kissed _me_. And _you_ sucked _my_ dick.” His voice is rising in volume. “I took all that stuff as confirmation that we liked each other. What’s changed since then?” He asks angrily. Before I have a chance to put my words together in my head, his expression drops and he looks horrified.

“Oh.” He breathes. Then he pulls the blanket off of himself and gets up off the couch. “I get it.”

“What?” I ask, looking up at him worriedly. He walks over to one of the kitchen chairs, the chair I was seated in last night, and sits down. I can already feel the cold air of his apartment seeping back into my body now that he’s left my side. He still hasn’t answered me. “What?” I repeat, my voice growing shriller by the second.

“I get it, that’s all. Last night wasn’t what you expected and now you want out. That’s fine.” Jean answers quietly.

What the hell is he talking about?

“Jean, no. That’s not it at all. Last night was great.” I assure him, getting up and walking over to him. When I place my hand on his, he recoils away, drawing his hand against his chest.

I don’t know why that hurts so much, but it does. He’s never reacted like that to me touching him before. Never.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Jean practically spits. Then his hand drops to his lap and a resigned expression reappears on his face. “Just get out.” He adds quietly. A panic overwhelms me at his words and I shake my head.

“No, Jean. You’re not understanding me. It has nothing to do with you or what we did last night. I’m just–”

“I said get out. Just get your shit and leave. I understand perfectly.” He interrupts me again with a sigh. A wave of frustration washes over me. He’s not listening to me at all. He’s just latching on to the first thing that I said and will no longer reason with me.

“Jean, will you just listen to me for a second?” I beg, to no avail. Jean’s chair screeches against the floor as he pushes it back to stand up. Then he goes over to the corner of the living room where my bag and guitar are and struggles to pick them up.

“Just get out. Fuck you Marco.”

“Let me just explain, Christ!” I’m starting to get angry myself now, as much as I don’t want to. Jean whips his head up to glare at me with glistening eyes, my things still in his grip.

“Fuck. You. Marco.” He deadpans, leaving me speechless. A shot of worry hits me hard, because I begin to realize that there is no getting through to him. I could lose him, all because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut about my stupid doubts. 

“Please listen to me, please!” I ask of him, quietly but urgently. “The reason I was thinking like that is because–”

“How many times do I have to tell you get out?” Jean interrupts me a third time, tears beginning to stream down his face. I can’t stand it. I never wanted to be the reason for his tears, not me. “Get out of my apartment!” He sobs, dropping my things in the floor pointedly and going to gather up my nice clothes from the dance last night off the floor and shove them in my bag. Then he kicks it towards me feebly.

“Jean,” I start desperately.

“Fuck you.” He retorts right away, grabbing the rainbow blanket off the couch and bundling it in his arms.

“Please!” I shout, earning just a shake of his head. He goes over to the front door then and opens it, the freezing outside air rushing into the apartment. I don’t budge. “My parents–” Jean’s voice rises over mine once more, thick with tears.

“I don’t care what your parents think! I care what you think! And you obviously aren’t into me. You led me on Marco!” He shouts, still holding the door open.

“No, I didn’t!” I try to assure him, but it just comes out angry and desperate, like an argument.

“I swear to God if you don’t leave, I will.” Jean threatens. He knows I wouldn’t want him out there in the cold in just sweatpants and a shirt…He’s got me pinned. When I look at him shivering in the doorway, scowling at me and crying at the same time, I give up. I go over and pick up my things slowly and numbly.

“If you’d just listen to me you’d realize you’re making a mistake.” I say softly when he steps aside to let me pass through the doorway and out onto the landing. The wind is nipping at me viciously. He won’t even look at me.

“The only mistake I made was actually believing someone like you could like me.” Jean declares, his gaze locked on the floor of his apartment. I just stare at him, the way his face is red with emotion and tears. His usually intense eyes are dull behind their wateriness. Why won’t he let me fix this?

“Jean, I _do _like you. If you’d just…” I trail off with a flinch because he slams the door shut, disappearing behind the dull maroon barrier. With that, he’s gone. I’m out here in the cold and he’s inside, shutting me out. I remain there for a few minutes until I hear the door lock.__

Did I just lose him?

Oh my God, I think I just lost him.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there is anything I can do at this point. So I just trudge down the stairs, my shoulders hunched against the wind. Once I find my car parked at the end of the block, I shove my things in the trunk. Then I fish through my bag for my phone.

Folding into the front seat and closing the door behind me, I allow myself a few moments of preparation before checking to see how many messages and missed calls I have from my parents. If they’re calling, it at least means they care in some way, even if it’s anger. The next step I guess is to go back home. I have nowhere else to go, right? So I turn on my phone screen and brace myself for the worst.

There are no new notifications. The last missed call is from 11:23 last night. Did they...give up? That fast?

I don’t know what hurts more, the blindingly truthful realization that my parents might not love me, or the overwhelming sense of dread that comes along with the thought of going back there. I can’t go back.

I have nowhere to go. Yesterday I was welcome both in my own home and Jean’s, and suddenly I’ve been cast out from both. I don’t have somewhere I belong. Who can I even call for help? Usually it’d be Jean, but that’s out of the question at this point. Honestly, I’ve never felt more helpless in my life than I do right in this moment. I’ve gotten myself terribly lost. The web of emotions fogging up my brain is impenetrable at this point. It’s a wonder I haven’t completely broken down yet.

Who knows how long I sit there in the freezing car, not even wearing shoes. I just let me forehead rest against the steering wheel, something I tend to do when I’m stressed. Part of me wishes I could just stay in this spot forever, unmoving and unfeeling until I waste away to nothing. But eventually, somehow, I will myself to come up with a plan. It’s not ideal, but it’s moderately solid.

Grabbing my dress shoes and slipping them on so I can drive, I start up my car. I’ve never felt more alone as I pull away from the curb and make my way down the road. Though, at least now I know where I’m going.

It’s hard not to dwell on everything, but I turn the radio up loud and force my thoughts out my head. I just need to drive now, that’s all.

Just drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, shout out to all the people on here and tumblr who kept bugging me to finish this shit. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can honestly say every time you guys left a comment or an ask about this I would bring it up and work on it that day and that's the only reason it even got done.  
> Second, I HATE THE WORD COCK. That is why I used so many euphemisms for it in this chapter. "Cock" sounds so damn porny. And I couldn't use "dick" because Marco doesn't curse, even in his mind. And "penis" sounds too clinical. Sooooo you get what you get. Vague descriptions of male genitalia. I apologize.  
> Lastly, you guys may have noticed it took me a LOOOOONG TIME to get this chapter out. My life has been an absolute roller coaster this past half year and I really am sorry for the delay. There are so many reasons why I couldn't focus on writing but the main one is that I switched my major to bio:premed –ironic I know, because I talk it down so much in this fic– and I started doing undergraduate research. Needless to say, my classes and research took up most of my time. (Not to mention working on top of it all) But it is now summer and I only have one class to worry about, which gives me time to focus on this a little more. So yay!!!  
> P.S. Thank you everyone who still even reads this and puts up with me. You are greatly appreciated. Remember that one time when I updated 3 days in a row? HAHAHA.
> 
> *******************************************************  
> UPDATE:
> 
> For those of you who don't see my tumblr updates, I will not be continuing this story. I'm sorry. This is what I posted.
> 
> "So to be 100% honest I don’t think I’m going to continue with Malignancy in the future. Looking back at the storyline the way it began, with the insensitive plot devices I used as a new writer, I’m actually pretty embarrassed with it. I don’t think I’ll take it down because I know a lot of people love reading it still. But it’s very, very difficult for me to continue trying to build on it because of how much I’ve matured as a writer over the past 2 years.
> 
> However, I do have other oneshots/fics in the works for you guys, one of which I’m really excited to share the first chapter with you all soon. Please feel free to shoot me an ask or message if you have questions about the details of me ending Malignancy or if you’re curious about my future fics. Thank you! And I’m sorry!!"
> 
> If you have any questions, like I said, I will be happy to take them at physiologyfan.tumblr.com


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